


C18H27NO3

by saruma_aki



Series: Elements and Chemicals [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clint Barton & Loki & Natasha Romanov friendship, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Good Loki, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Angst, M/M, Odin's A+ Parenting, Odin's Bad Parenting, Phil Coulson & Loki Friendship, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Thor is a dick, shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:03:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saruma_aki/pseuds/saruma_aki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki knew he was fooling himself with thinking he could just disappear off the face of a realm and remain lost to Asgard. He had just hoped he would have had more time and that him being found didn't hurt so much.</p><p>***</p><p>In which Thor is an oblivious dick, Loki's world seems to come crashing down, and Thor's love life is really like a knife to the chest for Loki as Midgard gets attacked by aliens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter o1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the newest edition to the series Elements and Chemicals. I highly recommend reading the others before reading this, but you don't absolutely have to. It references to some things from the last two editions, though.
> 
> Anyway, here it is, at last!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> The idea for this edition came from ThePhoenixandTheDragon and Sara.
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This work is unbeta'd. I tried my best to correct things, but I probably missed some things.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

When he was called in to check out the lab work of some scientist, he had certainly not been expecting this. Staring at the pictures, his brow furrowed as he ran pale fingers over the image. His eyes were narrowed, zoning in on the important aspects of each picture before asking to see the readings of the energy flow during the time of the occurrence.

It was handed over and he fingered the device, watching the spikes in energy and he didn’t need much more to tell him what it was.

“Have a nice day,” he muttered as he exited the room and made his way to the elevator. Every muscle in his body was tense, a line of rigidness as he punched the floor number in before standing back, arms crossed over his chest tightly.

There was a ticking in his head like a time bomb and it put him on edge, setting nerve endings alight with phantom chills of threats that weren’t there.

The doors opened.

Drawing in a quick breath, dropping his arms to his side, he marched out of the elevator and headed to the office door just at the back of the hall, pulling his ID out and letting it be scanned. There was a momentary lapse as he waited, but then the lock clicked and he slid open the door, shutting it behind him.

“What was it?”

“You were right. The energy signature is too far off the charts to have been anything from Midgard—not to cause a spike like that so suddenly. The pictures,” he paused, drawing in a breath, “they were of the Bifrost—the transportation system used in Asgard.” His palms were clammy with sweat, his chest tight with the implications of what this could mean and he didn’t want to think about it, but he knew it was true. Someone from Asgard was here.

“Sit down, Loki,” Fury instructed and Loki immediately moved to obey, not second guessing anything at this point—not with how he felt he was shaking apart at the seams. “Do you have any idea if someone was arriving or leaving?”

“Arriving—there was the form of a body in the pictures. The agents pointed it out the second they showed me the images.”

Fury nodded and he leaned against the table right next to Loki and his mere presence was enough to relax him slightly, allowing the intake of air to not be as difficult, loosening the tightness in his chest. It felt like his stomach was held in an iron grip, though; unforgiving and cold, making him restless, wanting to squirm to loosen it, but failing because no matter what he did, it wouldn’t leave.

“Do you know who it is?”

He shook his head.

Fury reached out, placed a steady hand on Loki’s shoulder and squeezed gently. The tension bled out of him and he involuntarily slumped back against the seat, breath escaping his lungs shakily before drawing it back in.

“Are they here for you?”

“Doubtful,” Loki responded, tilting his head up towards the ceiling and staring at the plain white before his eyes slid towards the vent a bit ways off on the side. “Heimdall cannot see me and Laufey’s visit has long since passed—it wouldn’t be wise of Asgard to suddenly send someone now about it.” Fury’s hand left his shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest, brows pulling together as his mind went through a list of what could possibly be happening.

“What other reason would they have of coming here?”

Loki side wearily, eyes sliding over to focus on Fury, shoulders slumped in defeat as he responded. “I don’t know.

 

 

 

When he left the room, it was to run into Natasha and Clint who were staring at him expectantly. Sighing slowly, he continued to walk toward the elevator, the two following and pressing the button for the ground floor.

“So,” Clint drawled, wrapping his arms around Loki’s waist and resting his chin on the god’s shoulder.

“You already heard everything.”

The blonde flailed, scoffing indignantly, but the look in his eyes and the fact that he was smiling sheepishly gave him away. Natasha snorted, pulling out her phone and typing away on it as they moved out of the elevator.

“Come on, you two. There’s a sushi place I want to try.”

“Can’t,” Clint muttered, wincing as he looked at the two guiltily. They paused, eyes locked on the blonde as he adjusted the collar of his mission suit, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. “I have to head down to New Mexico again, give the place a last once over with Coulson. I should be back tomorrow and I know I promised to go, but—”

“Clint, relax,” Loki soothed, reaching out and laying a hand on the man’s shoulder like Fury had done with him earlier. “It’s fine. We’ll put it off until tomorrow, no big deal.”

Natasha nodded her consent and Clint grinned, pressing a quick kiss to both of their cheeks before taking off down the hall, calling back something about how the sooner he left, the sooner they would eat raw fish and he’d be out of a desert. There had been a mixture of groaning about sand in very personal areas in there somewhere.

“Coffee,” Natasha declared, grabbing Loki’s hand and tugging him along.

 

 

 

Clint came back completely fine, said he had no clue exactly what happened, if he was being completely honest, but there had been some blonde guy and a girl who was now completely smitten with him despite the fact that he left to go on the rainbow bridge.

The entire story sounded like one of Clint’s drunk tales and Coulson’s story was a bit more put together than Clint’s, but still relatively the same. It had all been resolved in the matter of a week and they all went home, including the man from Asgard.

It didn’t matter much to Loki, though.

He was happy enough with just knowing his friends were safe and that no one from Asgard had found him yet. He had finally established a rather stable sense of self-confidence and esteem and he did not need anyone from the golden realm coming and shattering it to pieces.

Clint stayed with him that night along with Natasha—even Fury and Phil stopped by for a bit, and Loki merely watched his friends sleep, sitting in his chair and sipping his water. He loved his little self-made family here on Midgard, cherished it beyond all else and just the thought of losing it was enough to make his chest tight with anxiety.

The simple threat of someone otherworldly coming had made him apprehensive. Even when Laufey had come, he had been apprehensive, but it hadn’t actually settled in how easily someone could find him if they really tried until after the man left, promising to send a message somehow if he were to visit again.

Looking at his friends, he smiled, rising and grabbing a blanket to drape over their bodies where they lay on his bed. Walking to the living room, he laid down on the couch, setting his water on the coffee table before stretching out and closing his eyes.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. No, he assumed he wouldn’t be able to sleep for the next few days—not after that scare, but turns out he could and did and he had never regretted it more.

 

 

 

The large calloused hands gripped slim hips tightly, dragged him closer as blue eyes searched green. Hot breaths were puffed out against his face, mixing with his own as they stood there, eclipsed in an everlasting silence.

He could smell the mead rolling off the male in front of him pinning him against the bedroom wall. His fingers gripped the broad shoulders, pressing his own against the wall in an effort to not lose complete power in the situation.

“Brother, why are you pushing me away?”

He grunted; shoving against the strong shoulder, shifting his hips in an attempt to dislodge the hands gripping them and never before had he been so glad that his brother was well and truly drunk, so far over the edge that his grip became slack despite the amount of strength he had in his body. It was amusing to a degree, but situations lost their amusement quite quickly when they were in truth rather serious.

“Possibly because you’re completely and utterly inebriated and I would prefer not to have you breathing down my neck,” he hissed, shoving the man away and watching the muscled blonde stumble back, nearly losing his balance.

“Fandral said you kept looking at me strangely the whole night.”

“You shouldn’t listen to idiotic blondes when they’re about as far gone as you are.” He sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is concern really such an odd look on me?”

“He said you looked like you wanted to bed me.”

He spluttered, jaw dropping and cheeks burning bright in indignation while his arms fell to his sides, muscles coiled tight. “Well, you should tell Fandral to get his eyes checked and not to accuse people of such things.” His heart was thudding against his rib cage as he gazed at his brother, hiding the truth deep inside of himself. “He should know better not to say such things like that, wasted or not. The scandal it could cause—it would drag your name through the mud.”

Thor winced, walking forward a few stumbling steps before nearly falling and Loki rushed forward against his better judgment, helping the blonde straighten up. “Your name as well, brother.”

Sending a quick thanks to the Norns that Thor’s system thankfully had a thing of cleaning alcohol out rather quickly, he sat the blonde down on the bed, summoning water and thanking the Norns once more that the blonde would most likely remember none of this—including the display of magic.

He ignored the comment, imagined that the reason his heart was beating so loud was from having to carry Thor’s bulk briefly.

“Drink up and return to the party, brother. Tell Fandral to mind his own business and to not lie. Try not to get completely intoxicated this time.” He repeated the words over and over, easing his brother through several cups of water before watching the blonde amble to the bathroom to take a leak.

When the blonde returned, it was to an empty room. He shrugged and went back to the party and did exactly as his younger brother had instructed, though he didn’t remember it.

Loki hid in his room, buried under his covers with his body flushed a light shade of red in shame as he wept silently into his pillow. He had been too obvious in his feelings, feelings that would never be returned; not from his oaf of a brother and certainly not from anyone else on Asgard.

He curled up under his blankets and cried himself to sleep, determined tomorrow to wash away his shame and better perfect his masks so that such slip ups wouldn’t occur again.

 

 

 

Waking up, Loki stared at the ceiling, dazed eyes counting how many times he blinked before the image cleared up and he managed to pull himself to sit. The apartment was silent and Loki rose, checked on his two friends who were still sound asleep, before heading to the bathroom to shower.

He remembered telling Thor of his feelings once, when they were near sleep. Thor had scrunched his face up in confusion and said that there was nothing wrong with Loki liking men, though he would recommend doing something about his appearance.

_“You won’t get anyone into bed with you with the way you look now, brother.”_

Sighing softly, Loki ran the soap down the line of his body, eyes closed as he let the warm water beat down on the skin of his back while he worked shampoo into his hair. When he opened his eyes, it was to a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a face full of red as a head rested itself on his collar bone.

There was another pair of arms that joined the first and the hard line of a body behind him and he leaned back, letting the spray of water rinse out the shampoo in his hair as bow skilled fingers worked through the strands one handedly before there was a soft kiss placed on his cheek.

“Morning, Lo,” Clint whispered and Natasha nuzzled his neck, giving his waist a squeeze to show her bid of good morning as well. He smiled softly, lazily reaching his hands up, one to card through wet red locks and the other to scrape at the scalp of blonde, rubbing and massaging.

“Morning,” he mumbled back and let himself fall silent in the simple domesticity of his little family.

 

 

 

A year went by surprisingly quickly and through it all, Loki had Natasha and Clint by his sides, helping him through the maze that was Midgard. He enjoyed the realm immensely and he loved his new home and friends.

Missions were relatively easy and there were thankfully no more disturbances until Fury called him in one day, arms crossed over his chest and expression tight and closed off.

“We have something of extreme importance to discuss with all three of you,” Director Fury uttered, eye narrowed on them and behind him stood Maria Hill and Phil Coulson, expressions meditative and Loki, Natasha, and Clint immediately zeroed in, hands clasped behind their backs. “Follow us.”

They moved like a single ocean and agents in the halls parted ways to let them pass.

The elevator was empty and they were taken to a launching pad, instructed to get into a Quinjet. Agent Hill was in charge of flying it to the wanted destination and Natasha, Loki, and Clint sat in the back, silently communicating with each other through expressions alone.

Agent Coulson sat across from them and eventually they turned their eyes onto him, brows furrowed and arms crossed as they leaned back against the side of the Quinjet. Coulson stared right back and Loki side glanced at Clint who was tense next to him. There seemed to be a silent conversation going between the two from their eyes alone and Loki tossed Natasha a look and she shrugged her shoulders minutely.

They landed on the landing pad of another SHIELD base and upon exiting the Quinjet, Loki froze.

There was a pulse in the earth, an energy buzzing around the building and he could feel his own seidr respond to it. It curled in his gut and ignited his nerves, sending pleasant thrills down his spine.

“You have something of magic here,” he stated simply, feeling his seidr vibrate in restlessness, eager to see what had such an aura about it, such power.

Director Fury grunted, grinning slightly as if he could tell that under his calm mask Loki was on edge, eager to see what it was that had called them there; what it was that he was feeling.

“Indeed; now, follow us. It’s on the underground levels.”

They moved quickly amongst masses of agents, worming around tables and computers before ending up at an elevator again. The ride down consisted of silence and he heard Clint whisper to Natasha about how he missed elevator music at times like this. Apparently there had been a time where SHIELD elevators had it.

It didn’t bother Loki much, having grown into SHIELD with the silence and he was already a fan of silence to begin with.

It was peaceful; calming.

His eyes slipped closed.

A flash of blue eyes appeared behind his eyelids, a low baritone bellowing his name.

_“Loki!”_

Snapping his eyes open, he felt two fingers against the back of his thigh. They were strong and reassuring and he relaxed as Fury brushed past, retracting his touch as the doors opened.

Moving after him, Loki’s eyes scanned his surroundings, taking in the heavily reinforced walls, the lone table with a computer on top of it. There was another table, further to the back, holding what appeared to be a spread of different tools.

But then his eyes shifted and they focused in on what was pulsing, shaking him to his very core.

His magic hummed, thrived, and before he knew it, he was walking past Fury. His eyes reflected the blue light of the object held in a circular metal frame with wires running along the sheets. His eyes took it all in, drank it in.

He reached out, didn’t touch, but let his magic linger on the tips, pressing against his skin as it felt the thrum of the blue cube.

“The Tesseract—where did you find it? How did you find it?”

“Howard Stark found it. We’ve been trying to study it.”

Loki glanced at the wiring again before making his way to the computer. His fingers flew over the keys, typing in numbers and letters faster than he himself could comprehend, but his seidr was singing in recognition to the energy, to the feeling of power. It responded to the tesseract and Loki rolled with it.

Glancing at his work, he blinked, first in confusion and then in understanding. “There—understanding its energy should be easier.”

Clint walked over, glancing over his shoulder with analytical blue eyes and Loki watched as those eyes made quick work of what he had typed. His nod was short and he brushed the backs of his knuckles against Loki’s hip as he turned to face Director Fury.

“It seems correct.”

Agent Coulson nodded a bit, motioning with his hand for them to run the program and Clint hit enter. The machines whirred to life and Loki noticed finally other monitors set up and the array of wires covering the floor.

It was a miracle he hadn’t tripped over them.

Clint’s huff of disbelieved laughter made him turn his attention to the computer screen once again. The numbers were running smoothly, the data appearing on a graph, on another monitor a table—there were pulses of energy and Loki hummed appreciatively at the feel of magic.

“It works, alright.”

“Of course it works,” Loki snorted indignantly. “What do you want with the tesseract, anyway?” His attention was now fixed on Fury, an eyebrow cocked in confusion while he crossed his arms over his chest. Fury walked over, glancing at the numbers.

“Clean energy,” he responded simply. Loki frowned, fingers twitching, but he nodded his head in response. That wasn’t the full story, he knew it, but he wouldn’t push. It would be revealed in its own time. If he wasn’t told, it meant it wasn’t of major importance as of right now. “I was thinking of calling Professor Erik Selvig onto the project. He might understand some parts we don’t after the research he and Jane Foster did on the Bifrost.”

“Why not call her onto the job, also?” Natasha asked and Director Fury nodded his head a bit, arms crossed over his chest as well.

Loki wondered if it was just an agent thing and they all did it without really processing it.

“I might, but Selvig is number one on my list to get on the project—she would be more secondary.”

“Drop him a call, then. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

 

 

 

“You have no idea how much it means to be on this project. Things like this are so rare and after _that_ incident, I’ve been eager to get back out of the field—or lab, rather—and get to working on some things.”

He lurked in the corner with Clint, resting his arms around the blonde’s waist and placing his chin on a firm shoulder. “Why are we here?” he whispered, breath brushing along the column of the man’s throat.

“You’re here for containment,” Clint stated, reaching down and resting his hands on Loki’s, a reassuring weight, “if there’s a sudden catastrophic burst of energy. I’m here to spot if there’s any irregularities that,” he cocked his head back, sending Loki a side glance, “no one else can spot.”

Loki hummed, nuzzling closer and thankful for the shadows of the walls since their easy friendship could be seen as unprofessional to outsiders. Erik Selvig’s eyes flickered towards them for a moment and Clint’s fingers flexed against his arm and with a quick draw of will, the shadows created a blanket around them, shielding them from vision completely.

“You’re tense.”

He drew back as Clint released a sigh, shaking his head.

“I just don’t want another lecture form Fury.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, reaching out and cupping his hands around the jaw, looking deep into blue eyes. “No, that’s not what’s bothering you. You were fine before. What’s wrong?”

The blonde hesitated, a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, the shaky intake of air and Loki didn’t hesitate to press a thumb against each temple, long fingers dragging through the short blonde hair. It never ceased to make Clint automatically relax, a trick he had picked up from Agent Coulson when the blonde had gotten dangerously close to having a panic attack on a mission.

“I don’t,” he breathed out, hands coming up to grip Loki’s forearms—not to pull him away, but to hold himself steady, eyes blinking rapidly as they darted about before settling on Loki’s face and staying there. “It feels—there’s a feeling about him, a—a look, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. It’s putting me on edge.” His breathing was unsteady, fingers pressing harder as he tried to ground himself, tried to dig his feet into the ground before he got away from the situation.

“Okay, okay, Clint, just breathe. _Breathe_ …”

Their foreheads were knocked together, Loki staring deep into his eyes and he listened to the heartbeat come down, to the breathing steady, to the fluttering of eyelashes coming slowly to a stop as those eyes slipped closed for a moment before flying open and with a ragged breath, Clint was back, staring deep into emerald.

“Just—just be careful. Don’t—don’t say your name, don’t look him in the eyes too much and don’t use your magic. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary—please,” Clint was now the one holding Loki’s face, hands clammy and fingers cold, “just trust me on this one.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he breathed, trembling minutely, “okay,” the man slumped against the wall, slowly sliding to sit, “okay.”

Loki just gave him the time to come down, to slowly work out of the panic induced high he had gotten himself on and once he seemed calm enough, he slid and sat down next to him.

“If it helps ease your mind, I got in touch with Natasha the other day.” The blonde noticeably perked up, turning wide blue eyes on him and raven sent him an easy smile, reaching out and clasping his hand gently, delivering a small squeeze. “She’s perfectly alright. No wounds, no nothing. Just fine,” he whispered.

With that, Clint lost whatever tension remained in his body, slumped against the cement behind him in relief as his head lolled to rest on his shoulder, easy breaths of relief puffing out of him. It was a silent few minutes of relaxation and with the whispered promise of coffee once they left, Loki stood up along with the blonde, returning to their original positions.

Long arms covered in the black spandex of his mission suit coiled around Clint’s wait, gloved fingers lacing with each other and resting against his front. His chin placed itself on a firm shoulder and strong hands rested against his forearms, a reassuring weight as the veil of magic lifted off them.

 

 

 

 

When the attack happens, Loki’s at home, on his bed, curled up around his pillow. His phone vibrates and he hears the sound of it rattling about on top of the bedside table. He sits up, taps the screen and lifts it to his ear.

“Loki—”

“What is it?”

“We have a problem. There’s someone here—come quickly, please.”

The call dropped.

Tense and gripping his phone with cold fingers, he quickly waved his hand, donning his mission suit, grabbing weapons from his drawers and strapping them on easily before pocketing the phone in a pouch along his waist.

It was in a split second that he appeared in the lab, the familiar blue glow of the tesseract, and he winced back as he saw Director Fury there, talking to a person. Clint was on the side, near Fury, and Loki eased his way towards him with deliberately slow steps, acting as if he had been there all along.

The woman, he could now tell, was poised sharp and elegant, cocking a fine eyebrow at their director. The green costume she was wearing struck a memory deep in his mind and Loki caught himself quickly.

_Amora…_

His heart clenched and with a simple twitch of his fingers, his appearance changed; nothing horrendously drastic. His hair turned a dark blonde, curly and short and his eyes went to blue color, clear and pale, a light scruff dusting his chin and cheeks while his skin took on a bit of a tanner shade.

He could not afford to be recognized by her. That would be bad.

He remembered her from his younger days in Asgard when Thor had gotten big and strong, muscular in every way Loki was not.

He remembered her pretending to be nice to him to get closer to his brother.

She was the only person Loki thought he would be able to consider a friend back in those days. The only person Loki had ever let in while in Asgard—and she was the last.

 

 

 

“So, you don’t like training?” she questioned, pulling long blonde hair over her shoulder as the green of her gentle leather armor rippled with the movement. Loki nodded his head in response, fingers twisting each other, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“Not really. I’m not allowed on the training ground too often, though, anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

She nodded, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head to the sky. She moved further back, resting now on her elbows, twisting her body sideways just slightly so that her cleavage bulged just a bit outside of the constraints of the leather.

“Have you considered other forms of activity?”

Loki glanced over, tilted his head and frowned, lips pursing together in thought. He missed her annoyed glance at his seeming obliviousness. He wasn’t oblivious, though; just completely uninterested.

The supple bulges of breasts were for comfort, Thor said. There was always a lecherous grin on his face when he said it nowadays, though. Apparently Odin used to tell Thor that when he was younger and now Thor seemed to live by the words with the raging hormones practically oozing from every pore of his skin.

Loki found comfort in his mother’s, enjoyed burying his face in them whenever his mother fell asleep and he would fall asleep on them in turn like when he was a child.

It wasn’t the same, though—not to what Thor meant when he said those words.

“No, I haven’t. There doesn’t seem to be any other good form of exercise around here—at least that’s what father says,” he responded curtly, pressing his fingers to his skin, watching it turn blue under his touch, just a small ring, and he smiled a bit at the sight. The pulse of the casket was a small reassurance in its pocket of space and he breathed slowly, feeling his heart fall in tune with it.

“You’ve really never thought of anything else?”

She crawled closer, swung a leg over both of his and sat herself on his lap, hands easily coming up to rub at his shoulders.

“Nope,” he muttered, quickly folding his hands and thinking of the books he had stored in the library. “There’s a tutoring session I have to get to. My brother needs some help. You’re welcome to come, if you’d like.” He wriggled out from under her, dusting off his pants and heading towards the palace.

Her stare burned into his back, but he kept walking, not looking back and she fell into step beside him to go find his brother. He liked her well enough, though something about her set him on edge. However, he was lonely—he wanted a friend above everything and she was willing to provide him with friendship, so he pushed it aside.

Loki attempted to ignore the way she sat next to Thor during the tutoring session, how Thor sent her a blinding smile and seemed to ignore the entirety of what came out of Loki’s mouth.

He regretted inviting her in the days to come.

She automatically gravitated towards Thor afterwards, went searching for the blonde whenever she could.

Then the rumors started. Apparently she had told Thor that Loki had been unwilling to ‘put out’ and Thor had decided to fix that problem.

As Thor sat in his room telling him the story, of how she was in bed, how she was so desperate for it because Loki wouldn’t give her any, Loki could feel a gaping hole opening up inside him, large and all-consuming. Thor had the terrible habit of not thinking about whether or not Loki actually cared about how many women he had bedded in the last few sun rises.

“You should have given her what she wanted, Loki. You know it’s hard enough for you to find a girl that hasn’t gotten any before, just like you.”

He gritted his teeth, stood, and instructed his brother to leave his chambers at once.

“I meant no offense, dear brother. It’s sweet that you want to save yourself for the one, honestly.”

He could hear the mocking humor in Thor’s words, though.

“That’s nice, but offense was taken. Out,” he hissed, long pale fingers pointing to the door. “I would not sully a girl I had no romantic interest in. That’s demeaning, not only to them, but to me as a person.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t, though.” Thor commented, almost as an after-thought and nearly to himself, but Loki caught the words and his eyes narrowed.

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Thor froze; eyes wide and mouth slightly parted, as if he realized what just came out of his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to say that, apparently, and Loki’s eyes narrowed further, his hands curling into fists and teeth grinding.

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Well, you did, so explain.”

A chair slid in front of the door with a mere look from Loki and although a mere chair would no doubt not be enough to hold Thor in the room, the implication was clear. He wasn’t leaving until he explained.

“She—she said,” he cleared his throat and Loki watched him edging to the door, fingers curling and uncurling from fists, sweat dotting his brow, “she said that the only reason she hung around you was to,” and Loki’s stomach dropped, his insides felt hot, burning, and his jaw tightened.

“To get to you—got it,” were his muttered words and the chair slid back to where it belonged. “Leave.”

The blonde edged closer for a moment, towards Loki, as if to supply comfort. He parted his lips as if to say something— _anything_ —but then he left, turning on his heel and exiting the room.

Loki comforted himself with the reminder that Thor had at least thought about how he probably felt in that moment—had been thinking of going to comfort him. He slept fitfully that night, staring at the ceiling and wishing he hadn’t been so desperate for someone he couldn’t have.

Thor didn’t stop sleeping with her on Loki’s behalf. He continued on as if that conversation had never happened, but for the duration of that relationship, Loki was left completely alone in his corner with his books and the small assurance that he knew it wouldn’t last.


	2. Chapter o2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thank you so much for your support on the last chapter. I enjoyed your comments and kudos and I hope you'll have the same positive reaction to this chapter! Now, chapter two.
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd. Sorry. I tried to edit it myself, but I might have missed some things. Feel free to point anything that I might've missed out.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights tot heir respective owners.

Slipping closer to Clint, he finally paused behind the blonde, letting his knuckles brush the man’s side as a silent sign that he had arrived. The blonde looked over and skillfully hid his surprise at Loki’s appearance, though he still felt it.

“You know her?”

He gave a nearly imperceptible nod of his head in response, eyes flickering over to the tesseract.

“I can’t do much—using _it_ will alert her to far too much. It would put you all in danger.”

Clint nodded slowly, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

Amora moved forward, eyes half-lidded and her walk graceful yet sneaky, slinking like a predator towards its prey. He knew the way she walked though, had seen her do it when walking towards Thor all those years ago. Slow steps with enough weight behind them to be light sounding, but heavy enough to make her breasts bounce and with the now far more revealing outfit she was clad in, Loki could only imagine how his brother would react around her.

Unfortunately Thor was a bit of a slave to carnal desires, even if he had developed some control over it in the passing decades.

“She appeared out of nowhere,” Clint muttered finally after a beat of silence, shifting closer with a simple cock of his hip and Loki nodded his head shortly. “There was just a flash and she appeared. There was some interference with the tesseract.”

His eyes were immediately drawn to the blue cube and he could see its erratic blue light, the panic of it as it shone left and right, light flashing blindingly from where it was bound in its metal prison. Amora’s eyes were on Director Fury, eyes lighting up with something only able to be described as manic glee.

“Give me the tesseract and I’ll let you free.”

She was bargaining, clearly, but Loki could sense the lie in her tone. As a master of lies and deceit, he could see the way her lips curled a bit too much, a clear indicator that she was a bit too over-confident. Too much confidence was an easy flaw in lies.

The reason he was considered the god of mischief and lies was because he had mastered the art. You had to be perfectly normal— _perfectly._

He was.

“You’re not holding me hostage, so that offer is invalid,” the director responded curtly and she glared, smile dropping as she tensed. He watched the muscles in her back shift as she drew herself up; pausing in a pose that Loki assumed was supposed to demonstrate her womanly prowess.

He felt the urge to roll his eyes.

He withheld.

Clint did not.

And she saw it.

Whirling, he pointed a hand at Clint and fire exploded from her fingertips. It was whirling and _alive_ , drinking in the oxygen and flaring bright and hot and Loki didn’t hesitate to wrap a tight arm around Clint and yanking him out of the way of the heat.

It wasn’t like normal fire.

This one incinerated on contact—no delay, no time to scream in agony or attempt to put it out. He could feel it in the power, the magic crackling through the air as she grinned wickedly.

It devoured, swallowed whole.

It was easy to tell the extent of its power when it collided with another agent behind them, two others managing to jump out of the way in time, but the third was not so lucky. The pile of ashes on the floor was all the proof Clint needed to sag in relief just slightly.

It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Clint. Clint was safe, Fury was safe, Natasha was safe; they were all safe. That was what Loki cared most about. It hurt, though, to think that an agent died and Loki could have stopped it, but he knew in his gut that it would only be more dangerous if Amora saw—saw who he was, what he could do.

She was powerful.

But Loki was more so. And she would focus her energy on taking out him, or weakening him at the very least. That alone would weaken every other defense or offense against her.

Magic didn’t work the same as science, as modern day weapons. It just didn’t, unfortunately, and with someone as wicked as Amora, it would take an extraordinary amount of luck to defeat her without at least a bit of magic on their side.

She turned her eyes on him and Loki was immediately grateful he thought ahead and disguised himself, because knowing the hatred she probably possessed for him for once barging when she and Thor were about to have intercourse and had pointed out the lack of protection, she would not hesitate to attempt to obliterate him on the spot.

 

 

 

“Thor, _stop!_ ”

The blondes froze, her legs hiked around his waist and Thor staring at the ceiling as she had been guiding his member to a certain place, but Loki’s eyes were quick—sharp and trained to take in every little detail.

They caught the sight of the protection disappearing with Amora’s magic and her intentions were suddenly clear.

Despite seeming to lack the brute force of Thor on a battle field, Loki was by far the intellectually superior one between the two of them—not to say that Thor wasn’t intelligent. He was; just, Loki was even more so.

She wanted the next king of Asgard to impregnate her, give him no choice to be able to leave her. That was she wanted. To be married to the next ruler because she had his kids.

It would raise a scandal if the first born of Odin ditched a woman after pumping her full of his seed. He could already hear the rumors and he didn’t hesitate to send a spark of fire towards the bed, making Thor jerk away from her to protect himself instinctively.

He had received the burn of Loki’s flames before; black flames—dark and unable to be extinguished without his will. She sat up as Thor whirled on his brother, standing in all his naked glory and Loki determinedly did not eye his brother.

No, sir—he did not.

He did _not_ need her spreading rumors about his feelings for the blonde god in front of him—his _brother_ , no less, regardless of whether they were related by blood or not. Just because she possessed no shame didn’t mean Loki did not.

It’s not like anyone other than himself and his parents knew—and even then they thought he didn’t know.

“Brother—this is not a good time.”

That heated stare focused on him with the male standing in complete nudity in front of him made heat ignite in his gut, but he ignored it, doused it in icy water; reminding himself that Thor would never like him like that—

_Don’t look down, Loki._

“This is actually the worst of times you could decide to barge in here without knocking.”

The words snapped Loki back to the current time and place from where he had been determinedly staring at Thor’s eyes, though his mind had been elsewhere.

“I knocked, you didn’t answer. It sounded like someone was being murdered—I worried. Father wants to see you, though, so I could not leave you to your,” he glanced over at Amora, sitting still with her legs spread and a glare on her face, “ _mauling_ of the animal.”

Did she have no decency?

How could anyone find her attractive? He wondered how his brother could continue to see her even after she had told him that she had used Loki to get to him.

What kind of brother was Thor?

“Please get dressed and use protection next time. You know how father will be if he finds out you ignored it,” Loki now glanced pointedly downward, though his eyes completely bypassed the cock standing tall and proud, full of blood, before jerking back up.

Thor glanced down, eyes widening in surprise.

“I would have noticed immediately,” was his immediate, almost automatic, response; defensive and dismissive.

“I have no doubt you would have, dear brother, but,” he walked forward and he grabbed the black flame that was sitting on the bed spread, completely harmless on Loki’s command, “would you have been able to stop? Cool down, get rid of that _thing_ and come to his office. You’re timed.”

“She is _not_ a _thing_ , Loki. Do not talk down on her simply because she chose the better one out of the two of us.”

He pretended that comment didn’t hurt.

He could tell Thor was mad at being interrupted.

For the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

A smirk grew on her lips and Loki returned it, only his was directed at Thor. “Was talking about what’s in between your legs, Thor.” He passed him and shoved a glass box to him. “The contents should keep her ready for you, and this is for next time.”

He didn’t mention the blackness of the glass, the way his black flame was dancing inside of it unseen.

Exiting the room was easy and when he sat in Odin’s office suffering under the stifling silence, Loki found he could bear it because he knew what the box would do.

When Thor arrived, not moments after, still adjusting his shirt, Loki immediately told his father about what he had seen, ignoring his brother’s hatred filled look that was sent his way. He ignored it in favor of thinking he was doing this _for_ Thor, for his own well-being and honor, so that he would not suffer a greater wrath from Odin later should Amora win.

Thor didn’t understand until Loki explained the protection disappearing under Amora’s magic, what he read in her intent and then Thor was livid. The skies darkened and thunder roiled as lightening struck down from the heavens.

Then the screams began from down the hall on the other side of the castle and Loki watched his brother and father go racing out, quickly calling the black flame back to him, gazing at it in between his fingers before making it disappear.

If Amora had to be put in prison for mental surveillance after having asked Thor nearly immediately to pound her in the animal pelts covering the male’s bed because she had been almost painfully hot without him inside her, he didn’t say anything. If she immediately blamed him, claiming the box had been cursed by him, he didn’t care. If Thor had dumped her after accusing her of lying to him, he didn’t pay attention.

He just remembered the look on her face when she’d been ordered to stay as far from Thor as possible and that if someone saw her try a trick like that again, she’d be incarcerated. The look of contempt, of hate, but of complete _defeat_ and _rage_ as she had been lead in seidr restraining cuffs, glaring at Loki who lurked in the shadows; that was what he cared about because that was all that mattered.

Loki ignored Thor’s raging shouts the next night, blaming him because ‘ _of course the one person that decides to talk to you is completely insane and_ I’m _stuck on the receiving end of it’._

He ignored the apologies two days later, turned the other way in the middle of them and stalked out. He didn’t need that and he didn’t need to have the pain inside him smoothed over again by sweet words from Thor.

Loki didn’t like pain and he didn’t want to feel it again. After apologies always came the tentative truce and after the truce came the betrayal once more, all in cycle.

He didn’t like cycles.

So, he broke it.

The apologies never sunk in, his heart put up its walls, and his books became a mountain around him and the casket his cave, his solace.

He guessed Amora was what finally broke their bond. Silly to think it would have been a woman who came and destroyed it and not Loki’s secretly harbored feelings for Thor.

Either way, that was the end of whatever brotherly relationship he and Thor had managed to have throughout their childhood.

 

 

 

 

When she looked at him now, he could see the madness in her eyes. This was a woman whose only drive was to come out on the winning end for her, screw whoever she brought down with her.

And so he put up his guards, made his expression hateful, but anguished—the hurt of losing a comrade, the anger at having someone attack them.

He was the master of deception.

She didn’t stand a chance.

And so his grip tightened on Clint momentarily before he drew his gun, aimed at her and shot. It knocked against the green armor pinning her hair back, the metal shining and she cocked her head.

“Missed?” Her lips curled into a devious grin, her fingers twitched, and eyes widening just the barest bit. He could feel the hatred coming off of her, the want to destroy and _own._ The sweetness of her voice, childlike in comparison to normal, grated on his nerves, but he steeled them.

Everything was static. The noise in his blood, the scent in the air, the simple stare of her eyes on him—just background noise. And he grinned, just as manic and unhinged as she had before and he played her game, moved like a puppet on strings as his head lolled drunkenly to the side.

His grinned widened, open mouthed and his tongue slid along his teeth. “It’s a warning,” he whispered, leaning closer like it was some secret he wanted share. A giggle slipped out, an exaggerated movement of his shoulders with the sound as he pulled back. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

She hissed, darted forward and tried to lunge at him.

She was physical when angry. He remembered that as she missed him by a foot as he twirled to the side, slouching in his spot as he waved the gun around whimsically.

“Strike one.”

Blonde hair whipped around her as she whirled, firing another burst of flame from her fingers and he dodged once more, ducking and thanking that the other agents dodged as well.

“Strike two,” he drawled, giggling and in another maddened leap, she launched herself off the wall and flipped behind him, her arm coming up to wrap around his throat and lock tight.

Loki gasped, eyes widening slightly at the touch before they fell half lidded in another second, tilting his head towards her and breathing against her lips. “Strike three.”

The resounding gunshot echoed throughout the room and she screamed out in surprise as she let go, taking a couple steps back and patting her body down with frantic hands.

“No wound,” Loki whispered, coming to stand by Clint again and pocketing his gun, “for now.”

And his features were schooled once more and Clint sent him a brief sidelong glance of confusion as Loki once more fell into an impassive state that he normally possessed in the presence of other agents. It was their job to be expressionless, essentially, but he knew how to play Amora’s game and he knew Fury would let him.

He mouthed ‘later’.

He’d explain then.

She glared, adjusted her belt, green like the rest of her attire, but darker—it matched her head wear, he noted absentmindedly.

Something dropped from the ceiling—a chunk _of_ the ceiling and they all ducked instinctively. Fury shot him a nod and Loki quickly turned on his comm.., sending out a message to all SHIELD agents to evacuate the building immediately.

Director Fury had the tesseract in a case in mere seconds, locking it and taking it with him as he ran towards the exit. Amora launched fire at him, but Clint was quick to fire a shot at her and her aim went askew, hitting the wall instead.

“Top priority is to get this out of here,” Fury instructed, but then the case was out of his hands and Amora was teleporting away and Loki knew her magic was weakened in this state and she wouldn’t be able to travel realms—he was pretty sure she didn’t want to travel realms if the fact that Fury wasn’t so upset about it was anything to go by.

“Ignore that now—top priority is to get out of here. This whole building is going to be brought down on top of us.”

“Where’s Selvig?” Loki finally asked amidst the chaos and Clint froze. Fury looked around with his one eye and Clint did as well. Nowhere was the quick conclusion drawn to.

“We’re missing agents, she took them with her,” Clint finally said, eyes darting across the room and landing on the blue hole opening up in the ceiling. “I didn’t notice her take Selvig with her. We have to move now, though.”

His hand gripped Loki’s and they began to run, splitting to put Director Fury in between them, guns drawn for any further sign of threat, though with the ceiling collapsing in on them, it was debatable how important shooting the enemy would be.

 

 

 

 

As they rode in a helicopter, silence had descended on them like a blanket and Loki found himself twisting a dagger between his fingers. They were his own from Asgard, the only weapon other than the spear that he enjoyed using to fight.

“So, who’s going to fill me in on what I missed?” he asked finally, running fingertips along the edge of the blade.

Fury cast him a glare.

“When we land,” is all the director muttered, pulling up Maria Hill’s contact and beginning to talk to her about the damage on the building and surrounding land. Several agents had gotten trapped under the rubble, including her, some because of research they could not afford to abandon, others because they were injured.

He winced at the thought of having a leg crushed under a boulder.

It wasn’t a comforting thought.

His eyes strayed back to the blade in his fingers. He remembered fashioning them—funnily enough, it had been on a trip to Jotunheim that he made them with a mage there. Fortunately mages had a seemingly unspoken truce—or at least when it came to the males.

He had yet to meet a female other than Frigga that was nice.

 

 

 

 

“Lost now, are you, boy?” A voice commented from behind him, not cruel, thankfully, just inquiring. It was croaky, weak with age, but wise and Loki turned slowly, sending a smile to the towering giant in front of him.

The bitter winds of Jotunheim blew, knocked against the loincloth the giant wore. He was hunched; just the slightest arch of his back and Loki noted that despite it, the man was powerfully built with bulging muscles and thick thighs.

“Not entirely. I know there’s a town over a few ways west, but I would rather not be seen in a crowded space.” He motioned to his Asgardian form. Unfortunately he learned it was best to travel as royalty—less likely for people to attack him, especially since he never carried any ill will for whatever realm he visited.

Red eyes narrowed slightly, staring him up and down, a soft hum escaping.

“Not very bright for someone as small as you to venture to the land of giants,” the man muttered, but he smiled, soft and genuine as he motioned for Loki to follow. “Why would someone as defenseless as you come here unarmed?”

“What makes you say I’m unarmed?”

The giant laughed, deep bellied and loud. It vibrated through Loki’s bones as he walked lightly upon the snow and ice. Surprisingly enough, he kept up easily as they weaved between trees. He wasn’t sure if the giant was deliberately going slower for him or if Loki was somehow managing to not slip on the ice despite his boots.

Normally he had to be barefoot to not slip.

“I can see it.”

The giant pointed a long blue finger at his gleaming red eyes and Loki’s brow furrowed.

“How,” was the question that slipped past his lips as he continued to follow the giant. His eyes caught sight of a cave slowly coming into view in the distance, not quite hidden amongst the snow, but it was shielded from sight.

“Magic, young one,” was the low response and the giant suddenly hefted Loki up, carrying him through the rest of the snow briskly and into the cave. “You possess it too, do you not?”

He blinked, not even bothering to struggle. The giant knew he was unarmed and hadn’t harmed him yet. He was fairly confident that he wasn’t the man’s next planned meal. Besides, he had made trips to Jotunheim before; enough to know that they were not cannibals like most Asgardian people wrongly assumed.

“Indeed.”

There was a grin, the teeth pointed and sharp, but the grin itself was warm like the realm was not. It held no malice and Loki felt relaxed at the sight of it. He was set down upon an animal pelt, soft and smooth and he looked down on it as his fingers gently tangled themselves in the fur.

“It’s comforting to know my sight is not failing me yet even in my old age.”

“You do not seem old.”

The man chuckled, low and comforting—warm like the fires in Thor’s bedroom whenever the male needed Loki’s company so that he could talk to him about his latest achievements—and sat down across from Loki, folding his hands.

“Looks can be deceiving.” He leaned forward, wriggling around a bit to get comfortable before returning his eyes to Loki. “What brings you to Jotunheim, young mage?”

And so, Loki told him. He told him why he was there, told him what he knew of magic, what abilities he had. And the giant taught him more. He taught him how to shift into animals without needing a whole ritual, told where the best places to get ingredients for spells were and which were rarer than others, taught him how to command elements around him.

And then when it was a few moons before Loki would be due back in Asgard, the man taught him how to fashion an indestructible blade. He made two, helped Loki sharpen them, made sure the balance was right, and taught him how to fight with them.

They were strong—stronger than the metals of Asgard—and would never dull.

Then as the mage bid Loki good-bye, he told him that he wished him the best of luck on his quest and that he found himself happiness in the coming years.

The knowing look in those red eyes still flashed through his dreams and he remembered upon arriving on Midgard for the very first time, he had rested a few days before going to Jotunheim.

He had found the mage again, older now, obviously, though still with the warm eyes and the gentle smile.

“I think I’ve found my happiness,” he had told the giant the instant he saw him.

The grin on the giants face had been momentarily blinding in its elation and he had scooped Loki up and held him tight. “That is good, young one. Happiness is hard to find nowadays.”

“It’s not complete happiness, but it’s enough and it’s mine.”

Loki remembered smiling so hard it hurt his face.

He wasn’t used to smiling so much—or at all.

The next few days he spent curled under layers of animal pelts with the giant, curled against his chest and finding comfort in each other. It was nice to have a friend, but the mage had to leave soon as did Loki, so he bid the mage goodbye, but before he left, he handed him one of the golden apples of Asgard.

It was a gift in return for all the man had done for him.

Loki traveled back to Midgard and went about setting up his future life, getting to know the realm and its language, its people and its cultures.

The giant was always in his heart, though, and whenever he visited Jotunheim, he made it a goal to visit the mage every time.

 

 

 

 

“Lo?” Clint nudged his shoulder and Loki blinked, looking up from the blade and meeting Clint’s concerned blue eyes. He really loved those eyes, just like how he loved Natasha’s red hair and Fury’s strong hands.

He hummed in response, leaning closer and settling against Clint, closing his eyes.

“You said those daggers were from Asgard, right?”

“Forged in Jotunheim, but yes,” Loki responded and Clint nodded his head. Loki could tell the man was trying not to think too much at the moment. When he thought too much, he worried, and he couldn’t afford to let his worries cloud his mind at the moment.

“Have you considered going to visit that man?”

Loki’s eyes stung at the corners and he let them slip shut, sighing deeply through his nose. “I would, but there’s not much I can do with a slab of rock.”

There was silence as the blonde processed the words and he looked up to see Clint chewing on his bottom lip pensively.

“How did it happen?”

“Illness—an animal ate something poisonous, he consumed the animal and it slowly killed him. He would have been fine considering he possessed seidr, but old age caught up to him. I wasn’t trained too much in healing magic then.” His hands clasped themselves in between his legs, fingers pressing tight. “I could only ease his pain through the worst of it, provide comfort where I could, and let him pass peacefully.”

“You buried him,” Clint murmured, voice sounding somewhat in awe, albeit sad.

“Yes.”

Silence followed and Loki reached over, giving Clint’s knee a comforting squeeze and a small smile. There wasn’t much comfort he could provide. Death wasn’t new to either of them, but Loki remembered that death especially well. It had been the first death of someone he deeply cherished and it had stayed with him all those long years, but he had continued with life.

His mentor had died happy and at peace, cherished and loved and that was all Loki could wish for a man on his deathbed.

“I think he saw it coming. His eyes saw much. I remember he used to get dreams, allusions to the future, sort of speak. He was ready for it when it came. I was just there to ease the pain of the poison, not of his heart.”

“He died happy?”

“Indeed.”

The rest of the helicopter ride was silent and Loki had gently put Clint under a light sleeping spell when the agent began to fuss with his guns slightly, fingers trembling just that small bit that gave away his worry.

Running his fingers through blonde hair was what he spent the rest of the flight doing, listening to Fury update him on the status of the agents and then listening to the one side of the conversation that he could as Fury talked to Coulson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! See you next Monday!
> 
> Feel free to leave comments ( I love reading them ) and kudos and let me know what you think of my work so far.
> 
> Thanks, again!


	3. Chapter o3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hello, guys! Here is chapter three!
> 
> Some warnings for this chapter--parts of it has quotes taken directly from the movie. The point of that is so that you guys (the readers) understand exactly where we are via timeline, sort of speak.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy the chapter!
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd. This shouldn't even be a surprise anymore.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

When Natasha got the call, she could say that she was disgruntled. A well put together plan, right when she was getting all the information and then the call from Coulson just came. She thought Coulson should consider himself lucky that she took out her frustrations on the men in front of her before picking up the dropped phone to return to the conversation.

“Where are Barton and Loki?”

“They’re fine, on their way to SHIELD headquarters. I’ll brief you on everything when you get back, but first we need you to talk to the big guy.”

She rolled her eyes, holding the phone against her ear with her shoulder as she slipped her heels back on, not wanting to step on a piece of glass or something in the dank room. It happened once—she did not want a repeat. “Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me.”

“Oh, I’ve got Stark.”

She can hear him moving around on the other side of the phone.

“You get the _big guy_.”

She tried to not think about how she’s pretty sure her heart just stopped. If she lets a few words slip in her shock, she ignores it as her grip on the phone tightens almost imperceptibly. She can practically feel Phil’s smile, though she knows there’s a note of sympathy. Phil’s not cruel enough to not feel a bit bad about essentially sending a lamb to the slaughterhouse.

The call ended and Natasha listened to the dial tone before slowly resuming her walk, trying to somehow restart her heart without needing to pound a fist against her chest.

 

 

 

 

Nope, Tony Stark did not need an interruption right now. He was more than happy to ignore the fact that a certain Agent Coulson was there wanting to get in touch with him. He was more than glad that JARVIS obeyed his commands as he drank his champagne happily.

His eyes weren’t even on Pepper, just focused on the ceiling where the lights were and a slow lazy smile pulled at his lips as he realized that this—his entire building was running on completely clean energy. The energy from the arc reactor, the very instrument keeping him alive, was running his entire building.

He, Tony Stark, former weapons manufacturer and former CEO of Stark Industries, now Iron-man, hero of America, built this. He made this. He accomplished _this—_ he _succeeded._

_He_ did something _worthwhile._

He tried not let out a hysterical laugh as he pressed his eyes shut, eyes admittedly a bit wet beneath closed lids.

“Sir, the telephone—I’m afraid my protocols are being overridden.”

His eyes snapped open as JARVIS’s voice quickly infiltrated his thoughts, shortly followed by Agent Coulson’s voice.

_“Mr. Stark, we need to talk.”_

Sighing, he attempted not to roll his eyes, picking up his phone and staring at the screen. In most cases he would probably pick up and yell at the person to leave him alone for a blessed few minutes and that he’d get back to them when he was done being busy—which normally resulted in never, but it was the thought that counted—but he was a bit too high of the happiness of his success to bother.

“You have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark. Please leave a message.”

_“This is urgent.”_

“Then, leave it urgently.”

The elevator doors dinged open and he dropped his phone next to him on the couch, releasing a soft groan which really only sounded like an exhalation of air because what did it take to get this man to leave him alone?

“Security breach,” he moaned, pointing a lazy accusing finger at the SHIELD agent while Pepper snorted delicately from the seat across from him, thumbing her nose in an attempt to cover it up. It didn’t make much of a difference.

“Mr. Stark, we need to talk.”

He tried not to cry in his head.

 

 

 

 

The bag in front of him looked absolutely decimated, he noted with no small amount of amusement. He remembered the days when he would have barely been able to land a solid punch on even the immoveable sack.

The sickly, gangly boy from Brooklyn with too much heart and a body barely able to contain it; it had only been a few years since then—at least in his mind.

Seventy years, though…

That was how long he had been ‘dead’.

He hooked another punching bag up to replace the battered one from before, trying not to look at the splattered insides of the bag. It showed a much different picture in his overwhelmed brain.

He heard the steps behind him before he the figure even entered the room. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as he went about landing blow after blow on the bag before him until the voice from behind him spoke up. His shoulders tensed still at the sound in what had formerly been silence filled with only his harsh breathing.

“What do you need? Do you have a mission for me?”

He busied his hands, quickly moving to uncoil the bandages around his knuckles to protect them from the blows. Movement was something he craved, something to occupy his mind as he struggled to adjust to the twenty-first century.

If he was being honest with himself, Steve craved a guide—just someone who wouldn’t mind breaking it down for him and spoon feeding it to him because currently, trying to take it in, he was rapidly becoming overwhelmed. He could barely manage to figure out how to work his Stark phone and it was supposedly made ‘easy to handle and ergonomic’.

It was admittedly comfortable to hold, a suitable size that fit the average hand size—even broad hands like his own—but it sure as hell wasn’t easy to figure out.

“What do you know about this?”

Director Fury let the manila folder rest in his hands and he opened it, jerking in surprise as his eyes focused in on the bright blue square on the picture there. A lump formed in his throat, images flashed through his mind.

The leader of Hydra as he held the cube—the whole reason this started. He remembered driving the ship into the water after that, remembered the all encompassing cold.

Jerking back to the present, he flipped to another page, trying to get his mind back on track. It was easier than before—he’d been doing it the entirety of the time that he’d been out of the ice.

Get out of the memories, stay in the present. It happened, it passed—he’s fine. There’s no ice, no cold. He’s out, he’s warm—he’s _fine._

“Where did you find it?”

“Howard Stark found it during his search for you.” There was a lull where silence settled before Fury drew in a breath, letting Steve read through the contents of the folder. “Anything else you can tell us on it?”

Steve sighed, jaw clenching and he moved, shoving the folder in his bag and picking it up along with a spare punching bag. As he brushed past, he sent Nick Fury a sidelong look, blue eyes troubled and serious.

“Yeah—you should have left it in the water.”

 

 

 

 

When Bruce Banner imagined the government finding him, it had certainly not involved a certain red-head who was currently pointing a gun at him _or_ being offered a job. In all seriousness, he did not exactly know how to deal with this situation. His nerves were a bit all over the place, but he managed to get them into control and not let the beast out.

The last thing he needed was _the other guy_ making an appearance.

The green hulking beast wasn’t a fan of signing autographs and all that jazz.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to see what would happen.”

The woman in front of him stared warily and as she cocked her head and spoke the words ‘stand down’, he tried not to grin. Tried, but failed a bit because he knew that there was a smile on his face, nearing a smirk.

“I thought you said it was just the two of us.”

He wondered if it had been another person, would she be rolling her eyes. She probably would. Maybe if he hadn’t lashed out she would be. She seemed like the kind of person to enjoy sarcasm and wit. He was proud to say he possessed some sarcasm and wit, though he didn’t show much of it.

The sick and dying didn’t exactly appreciate the art of it. How would you sarcastically tell someone they most likely weren’t going to make it another week, let alone the night?

“Please sit down. We can talk. I won’t do it again.”

He lowered himself to sitting and he watched her eyes following his movement, watched the tension in her shoulders bleed out just a bit.

“Could—could you stop pointing that at me, though?”

She jerked, stiff and calculating, and slowly lowered the gun and then herself into the chair. Her gaze was sharp and cutting and as she opened her mouth to speak, Bruce wondered if maybe he should have planned ahead for this, should have thought of this possibility.

Of course, that was meaningless now.

 

 

 

It had been almost a week since the attack and the tesseract was still missing. Director Fury had assured them that he had gotten some people to come and work on it and that they were supposed to be arriving today, but Loki couldn’t help but feel antsy.

Natasha was back, thankfully, and she was sitting next on the chair provided in the private room they were in as Loki paced back and forth, fingers tapping against each other in a display of nerves.

“I don’t understand why it took so long to get them. Do they not understand that this is a matter of great urgency? I mean, I can understand they probably have their reasons—I’ve seen their files, but—”

Natasha stood, walked over and grabbed his shoulders, grip tight to halt him from his pacing before drawing him back with her to the chair and forcing him to sit down. His knee bounced slightly.

Normally he was good at keeping himself in check, calming his nerves before they got control of him, but with the fact that it was _Amora_ of all things that was here, he couldn’t think of calming himself for the world.

His mind was only able to seem to focus on her expression when she had been dragged out of the castle that day. The cold words Thor had spat at him. The fact that his relationship with Thor had never been the same since that day was all his mind could focus on.

And once it went there, it focused on how much he missed Thor. And then how much he missed his family—well, just his mom; and consequently his brother because despite not having seen him in about a year and a half, feelings for him still lingered, though they had slowly been going away.

He had been doing so well until the sight of Amora brought back all those unwanted emotions.

Gritting his teeth, he let Natasha gently card her fingers through her hair, whispering soft soothing words in Russian. Her hands slipped to his shoulders, gently massaging the tension out of them and he slowly slumped back into the chair, letting his head loll backwards.

She gently coaxed him through the relaxation, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead when he was finally as relaxed as he was going to get in the short time they had before they had to go out. Fury was waiting for them, no doubt, with Clint, probably.

“Tell me—why are you so tense?”

Her voice was soft and Loki hadn’t realized how much he had missed her and her comforting touch while she had been gone, but now that he had her here, he just wanted to melt into her touch—to just curl up into her side and forget the world existed for a bit.

She was his first friend here on Midgard and she was the one that knew the most about him, knew about the feelings he had—and still sort of did—possessed for his adoptive brother, knew about most of his fear, most of the things that stressed him out and had been there for him when he needed her during the initial transitions.

“Amora was that one I told you about—the one that tried to make my brother get her—”

Natasha nodded in understanding, holding out her hands for him to hold onto.

“It just brought back memories and…”

“Feelings,” she finished understandingly.

He nodded in response, sighing slowly as he squeezed her hands with trembling fingers. “I’ll be fine, I just haven’t had the time to get—well, _everything_ —under control.”

She nodded once more in complete understanding and pulled Loki forward into a hug.

By the Norns, he loved her. She was always supporting him, no matter what. It was nice, to finally have a friend that helped him through everything. It made him wonder how he had been so desperate for a friend all those years back that he had accepted friendship from someone who very clearly had not cared for his feelings at all.

Amora was a woman out to get the best for herself—screw who she hurt. And she had almost had an entire kingdom at her feet, if Loki had only been a few seconds too late that day.

He could only imagine what she would manage if they dawdled in this situation—what would happen if they were just a few seconds too late.

He could imagine—but he didn’t want to.

 

 

 

 

Meeting the great Iron-man and the infamous Captain America in a Quinjet where they proceeded to glare each other down wasn’t as glamorous as it sounded. He had seen the files for both and as a child of neglect himself; he could read Tony far easier than the others.

When he looked at the good captain, he saw a man like Thor, not just in terms of appearance, but a bit in personality. Captain America was headstrong, stubborn, had a drive. Thor was the same, but his drive changed constantly, whereas Steve Roger’s seemed pretty solidly fixed on just helping people.

He was a man with a heart too large and had endured a shocking amount of loss and stress.

But as they stared each other down, Loki found himself counting down the seconds till they broke into an argument.

Captain America’s anger was clearly righteous indignation at having been left out of the loop on the bringing in of Howard Stark’s son. A bit of his anger was probably also due to the fact that Tony was throwing around jokes and expressions he didn’t understand.

Tony’s anger seemed to be long coming, more of a silently harbored resentment for the birth of the star spangled hero. After reading the rather vague file of Tony Stark, Loki was pretty good at putting the pieces together.

He was the god of mischief for a reason.

Natasha was behind the wheel of the Quinjet, Clint next to her. Loki sat in the back with the two heroes, trying not to crack under the tension between the two.

The skies rumbled, opening up to let out gallons of water, dropping like bullets onto the metal of the jet. He tried not to flinch, attempted to keep his expression neutral, but he couldn’t help looking up at the roof with apprehension.

The air crackled, thick with electricity, and it was with a sinking feeling that he realized that this was not exactly normal for Midgard. No—it had come too suddenly, out of nowhere. Weather reports reported less than a three percent chance of rain.

Definitely not normal, he concluded and he tried not to let his nerves flare up.

“Not scared of a bit of thunder, are you?”

Two pairs of eyes were trained on him now and Loki gritted his teeth. He could feel it clearly now and he caught Clint’s eyes through the reflection of the window, sending him a silent look—a warning. He could see the cogs turning in his brain as he turned to murmur something to Natasha.

“I’m not overly fond of what follows,” he responded, simple and vague, though as a resounding pound echoed throughout the jet, he realized that they were out of time.

The time bomb in his head checked to zero.

The detonation was silent, but he could feel everything he built crumble, the tentative life he had constructed slowly falling to pieces. His blood rushed through his ears, his mind jumped to run at incomprehensive speeds.

 

 

 

 

_“Time’s up.”_

His head was dragged up, his body thrown to the side.

His body ached, his muscles quivered in the permanent tension now seated in them, his bones running with a cold that had nothing to do with his heritage.

Shuddering, he gasped, mouth opening to let water spill out as his body lurched, head tilting to the side as his body rolled with the movement. Throat straining as his body rocked forward with the motion, crawling up onto hands and knees as water spilled from his lips in rough coughs and painful breaths.

His head pounded, his blood roared, but his mind was quiet, a soft silence coaxing him into oblivion, but his body disagreed.

He tried to ignore the sound of his heaving, the sound of water spilling onto already sodden ground. Raven strands clung wetly to the sides of his face and neck, an uncomfortable sticking and he reached a shaky hand to push the locks away, fingers stiff with fear.

Eyes wide, he could feel the coughs rocking his body, the shaking of his arms and the stiffness in his joints. His knees creaked as he slowly fell to lie on his side panting and shaking next to the puddle of water next to him.

It was a conscious mantra not to look at the water, to ignore the feel of his clothes clutching his body, wet, cold and uncomfortable.

Don’t look at the water—he didn’t need to develop a fear for it; he couldn’t _afford_ to develop a fear for it.

The Warrior Three and his brother didn’t need another thing to laugh at him for, another _weakness._

But he peeked, looked at the river and his body seized up in spasms as his lungs felt the reminiscent memories of water filling them, forcing out the life from his body and his body suffered a series of spasms before he was out, unconscious, lying next the river he almost drowned in at the puddle of water from his lungs.

Detachedly, he wondered if it was possible for his lungs to have held that much water and with a morbid sense of curiosity, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he would have lasted in the water before black consumed his vision and his mind followed into the darkness.

 

 

 

 

There were days where Loki was grateful for his seidr. When he was on Midgard, working with Natasha and Clint, on a mission for SHIELD, he was grateful. When Laufey visited, he was grateful, and when he healed Natasha, he was grateful. When he was with the Jotun mage, he was grateful for his seidr.

When he was in Asgard, he was rarely grateful for his magic. He detested that part of him with a vengeance, wanted to tear it straight out from inside him and toss it away because it wasn’t _normal._ He figured: maybe if he didn’t have magic, he’d blend in more, he’d make a friend, he’d meet someone, get over his childish crush on Thor that was more than inappropriate the older he grew. He figured that without it, everything would be better for him.

Maybe he’d be a bit more like Thor.

Maybe the reason he didn’t look like his family members was because of his seidr; then he found out about his heritage.

Maybe the reason he didn’t grow in bulk was because of his seidr. Maybe the power of it made him have less muscle development.

But now, as he found himself doubled over under Fury’s desk in the Helicarrier, he was never more _grateful_ for his magic. It took him out of that Quinjet, got him where he needed to be, put him somewhere hidden and safe where the only three people with access to walk into this room wouldn’t judge him.

His stomach heaved, muscles convulsing as he tried not to acknowledge that his world was crumbling down around him, the safe haven he had made for himself tearing itself apart all because of the arrival of a certain god.

A certain blonde haired god whose emotions tended to be reflected in the sky, and really—why couldn’t his life be just that slightest bit easier?

Pale fingers curled into fists, nails biting into the skin of his palms and he tried not to think about it. He closed his eyes against the truth, repeated it in his head like a mantra; don’t look. He didn’t need this.

Admittedly, he knew not everything was crumbling, but history had a way of repeating itself.

The only friend he got back then gravitated to Thor once given access to him. He feared—and maybe it was irrational, but he couldn’t help it—that his friends would gravitate to Thor now that the blonde was there. Sure, Loki had told the stories about his brother and his life on Asgard and the majority of his stories weren’t exactly good experiences, but whenever he spoke of Thor, he couldn’t help but always clarify that his brother was a good man.

_“He means no harm, his heart is usually in the right place, but he doesn’t think much farther than him the majority of the time and of what he believes is right. It’s his fatal flaw.”_

Maybe everyone would just go to Thor and slowly forget about him. It’d probably be gradual. Natasha and Clint were loyal people and his use probably wouldn’t run out for SHIELD, so he still had that to look forward to, but slowly they would go to Thor and his warm smile and strong arms.

They would realize which one was the better one of the two of them.

Thor appeared far more trust-worthy. He was easy on the eyes, candy for them, actually. His voice was a smooth, but rumbling baritone and he was loyal to a fault. His heart was as large as him and he had his beloved hammer.

A hammer forged from a fallen star that believed Thor was worthy and Loki was not. If that wasn’t a symbol for whom to put their trust in, he didn’t know what was.

It wasn’t a matter of who they had known for a longer period of time, it was a matter of who would you trust to throw their life away for yours when the clock ran out.

It was always Thor, though.

Even if you just put their titles together from the Midgardian lore.

Thor, the god of thunder versus Loki, the god of mischief and lies; there wasn’t much a decision.

It would never be Loki.

His carefully constructed illusion of safety was coming apart and his entire being felt like it was being stretched, pulled apart and scattered amongst the stars to take eons to find its way back together.

_Don’t look, don’t look—do not look._

But like when Sif and the Warrior Three nearly drowned him, he pulled his eyes open just slightly and his body shook and curled in on itself at the sight. The force of his dry heaves made his body lurch forward, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the floor as his breathing became ragged.

It had taken him years to overcome his phobia for water. He could only imagine how long it would take to get over the fear of abandonment. It had long since been coming, it had been festering deep in his heart, but he hadn’t acknowledged it because he never got anyone anyway, so why did he have to fear about being abandoned if that’s just how he was by default?

Now, he regretted it. Regretted not paying attention to it because his fear was all coming true, rearing its ugly head, but no—he couldn’t think about the abandonment.

Think of the present, not of the future. The future holds only pain and suffering if you try to imagine it. The present was just as bad right now, though, because even if his friends didn’t leave him, even if his little family remained, Thor was here, which means it wouldn’t be long before word got back to Asgard.

If word got back to Asgard, Heimdall wouldn’t need to see Loki to know where he was. He would only need to follow those he held dear to him and Loki would be with them, by default, because how could he not be.

His heart thudded in his chest while he tried to pull in ragged breaths, but it was like there wasn’t enough air in the room or his lungs were large enough or his airway was clogged.

Desperate fingers pulled at his pouches secured around his waist.

“Loki!”

It was Coulson’s voice, loud and commanding, but he could barely hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. Then there were slack covered legs in front of him and strong arms pulling him up to his knees and closer so that he was leaning heavily on a chest.

“Where is it?”

He wheezed—words failed him, unable to get past his mouth as he struggled to retain enough oxygen to breathe, let alone speak.

His fingers pulling at his pouches, though, seemed to be enough indication because then Phil was searching them, holding his trembling frame with one arm while he searched with the other and then it all stopped.

There was a slow spreading peaceful bliss going through him and Loki slowly fell limp, going slack against Phil’s body and letting the man hold him close, arm wrapped around his shoulders, his other hand rubbing up and down his back soothingly.

Harsh pants were pulled out of parted lips as he drank the air in greedily, the shakes of his body slowly subsiding to soft tremors.

“How much?” he whispered, pressing his sweaty forehead to Phil’s shoulder, fingers slowly regaining feeling.

“Two shots—it should take about ten minutes for your system to clear it out.”

Loki nodded and allowed Coulson to shift them about so that the man was leaning back against the desk with Loki against his side as he slowly coaxed the god down from the panic attack.

“What happened?”

“Thor is here.”

“Your brother,” the agent mused. It wasn’t a question, but a statement and Loki took it as such, not bothering to respond as his heart slowly climbed back down from its formerly erratic pace and his breath came easier.

Ten minutes passed quietly as his body slowly wiped out the two shots of liquid nitrogen, his Jotun heritage wanting to cling to it just a bit longer, but soon it was gone and Loki regained full control of his limbs again as his panic receded.

They both clambered to their feet, Loki swaying a bit before regaining his balance. Phil made sure he was alright and stable before finally letting go, looking at Loki seriously in the eyes.

He liked Phil.

Agent Coulson was a good man and took care of those around him. If you caught him when he wasn’t working, he was also downright pleasant, though during working hours he could seem a bit strict and off-setting.

The man was able to be trusted, he knew that.

“Your brother can’t take anything away from you if you don’t let him.”

And then Coulson was standing up straight, adjusting his suit jacket and looking at Loki as he straightened as well, folding his arms behind his back.

“Come along. They should be arriving soon if they haven’t maimed each other without you there.”

 

 

 

 

He kept to the shadows.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, his magic created a shield around himself, making him less noticeable to the passing eye, so as long as Thor didn’t focus specifically on him, he’d be completely looked over.

He thanked the Norns for small miracles.

Arms crossed over his chest, he could see Coulson eyeing him worriedly from across the room, but he just focused his eyes on Tony Stark and Bruce Banner who were discussing thermonuclear astrophysics. Clint’s eyes dragged over the room and landed on him. His brow was furrowed in confusion, lips pulled slightly downward.

Nudging Natasha, he jutted his chin towards Loki who had now turned his gaze over to Fury. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Natasha’s shoulders slump with relief and he smiled softly at her, the smallest upward quirk of his lips to assure her further that he was fine.

Coulson seemed to notice the exchange because he too seemed to relax just the barest bit as he went through documents on his tablet slowly, eyes scanning over words as he slowly put images up onto Fury’s own monitor on anything pertaining to Amora.

Loki then turned his eyes to Thor as an image of Amora appeared and he watched the tension rise in the god.

“One of our agents has mentioned that you knew this woman personally.”

“How would they know?” Thor bit out, voice deep and rumbling and Loki pretended that it didn’t affect him as his seidr wrapped around him even tighter, slowly shrouding him from the searching gaze of his brother who was staring Fury down.

“That’s not your concern—”

“It is if someone from your ranks somehow knows of matters taken care of privately within the safety of the palace of Asgard. Spies in the King’s ranks will not be tolerated,” Thor all but growled and his gaze swept over the room, furious, and there was a jerk of an agent near the windows as thunder boomed in the skies.

Loki tried not to roll his eyes.

Thor really needed to learn to control his emotions.

“There are a number of stories written on you and those related to you in folklore on this planet. One of our agents probably found out in a story and assumed it to be true since you’re here,” Agent Coulson quickly stepped in and Thor tensed before relaxing slowly, nodding his head and grunting in response to show he submitted in face of the problem being now resolved.

It was a wonder how he even knew that the people of Midgard wrote stories on them. It wasn’t as if Thor paid any attention when their tutors taught them about the realm.

“Alright,” Fury grunted, “now that we’re back on track—this is what we know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please, please, please, let me know what you think in the comments. I'm not gonna be one of those writers that withholds chapters or something until people comment and I hate hounding you guys, but I would like to know if this is fine, if it's going too slow-what have you.
> 
> So, don't hesitate to comment and feel free to leave kudos!
> 
> Till next week!


	4. Chapter o4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry this chapter is late and short. Midterm week came up and tests and stuff. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, though. Thanks for the comments on the last chapter, though. They made me really happy and I loved answering your questions!
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd and and I tried to proofread it and all, but mistakes happen and all.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

Fleeing was not something he enjoyed. It wasn’t dignified and it certainly didn’t work half of the time. However, desperate times called for desperate measures and all that, so Loki figured it was a good time as any to swallow his dignity and boot it the hell out of their to the lab with Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark.

Never let it be said that Loki didn’t know when to retreat. Thor wouldn’t be working with Dr. Banner or Mr. Stark, so it was safe ground, and he fled easily and quickly. It was a good thing that Director Fury had only said an agent would be joining the two of them.

If he had specified, pointed in the direction of him, he would have been screwed. He couldn’t blot out his entire existence. The spell was minor, meant to drag the least amount of attention from anyone sensitive to his seidr like Clint and Natasha.

It only made him harder to notice, not invisible.

There was a difference—a very large difference.

He thanked the Norns that Fury was smar6t and considerate and one hundred times better than Odin.

_Blessed be the Nine…_

Lurking in the corner, he merely observed Tony and Bruce working, watched the billionaire and the scientist goof off a bit because they were in the company of Tony Stark. The man seemed to utterly fail at being serious even when times were dire.

Tony Stark was a man of many words, but Loki had never heard the word serious be used with him. Now, Bruce banner was the opposite. The man got his life ruined by his dedication to his work, but Loki knew a thing or two about having something in your blood you’d rather not.

He could relate to both men, to some degree, and watching them work only seemed to enforce that. However, his mind seemed to helpfully forget after a moment that sharp was a word used to describe both men—sensitive to detail and all that.

“What’s your story?” came Tony’s voice and Bruce looked up at the same time Loki did, but he didn’t look at Tony, he looked over at Loki. He was perched on the counter in the corner, legs crossed Indian style and slouched forward, fingers twisting a thread of visible magic.

Both pairs of quizzical brown eyes on him left him feeling more than a little out of his depth, but he remained neutral in expression. Tossing a cursory glance around the room as he shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, he allocated the exit—he had already knew exactly where it was, but he needed something to do.

“Which agent are you?” Tony asked and Loki cringed inwardly. Of course the billionaire liked asking questions—he probably enjoyed listening to himself talk, but something told him there was more to the billionaire than he let on typically.

“Agent U235.”

Bruce coughed, cocking an eyebrow in response and Loki returned the expression in full, straightening and rising from his spot, arms coming up to cross his chest.

“Like, as in uranium?”

Loki nodded his head.

“Why7?”

“I’m in charge of blowing things up.”

Tony sputtered, fingers pressing into the keys of his board before he quickly let up, deleting the accidental letters and numbers. Typing in what he needed to, he turned once more, leaning his hip against the table he was standing at and crossing his arms over his chest.

“So, every other agent just goes by their least name and you get an element? Are you special?”

Loki shrugged, walking over and gazing over the numbers Tony just entered into the database, watching as they were scanned and results popped up, twisting lines of green numbers and he could tell why Tony was certified as a genius.

“You could say that.”

He turned sharp emerald orbs on Tony before letting loose a smile.

“Do either of you want something to eat? According to your files, you both tend to forego meals.”

Bruce blinked, checked his watch and blinked again, eyes slowly widening while Tony seemed to mull over the question as if it were something of great importance, like whether or not Stark Industries should go back to manufacturing weapons.

“Sure.”

“Why not?”

Loki nearly rolled his eyes as the two scientists spoke at the same time, a broad grin stretching across Tony’s lips as he got into the groove of the idea of food.

All three of them exited the lab, the two following Loki’s lead as he headed to a lower level on the helicarrier that had the lunch room.

According to Clint, it reminded him of high school. Natasha said it was more like college. It had taken five minutes before the argument had been settled to it could be either or. He smiled fondly at the memory.

Striking up a conversation with Stark turned out to be rather simple, Loki found out. The man could talk, but he didn’t ramble; let you get a word in edgewise and always made sure to stay on topic. Banner was a bit harder to get on board, but Loki figured living with the need to keep your heart rate in check and avoiding people close to constantly could that to you.

Eventually, though, the doctor fell into a rhythm and he joined in steadily as well. Loki watched as they both slowly let loose and it was like looking at two kids talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up.

Heart-wrenchingly adorable was what it was, Loki mused softly, nodding his head in acquiescence to what Tony said on the possible mutation of the energy of the tesseract now that it wasn’t in its formerly controlled location.

 

 

 

 

 

“What do you mean, darling?”

“I mean, I have no desire to become a bumbling oaf like Thor and the rest of these soldiers on the battlefield. I desire not to be cut down where I stand because I followed a plan that was doomed to fail from the start.”

“Loki, this is not a matter up for discussion. You play your part like you are supposed to or so help me, I will—”

He tuned out.

The threats that close to constantly fell from Odin’s lips were paid no mind. Why would he pay attention to a man that couldn’t do much to their own son for doing absolutely nothing wrong?

“Father—”

“This is the strategy we’re going with. When your fight, you fight with honor, not schemes.”

And he was promptly shoved from the room.

He glared at the golden door’s, tamped down the rising rage that made his blood fill with ice and the floor beneath his feet start to cool.

“Brother—there you are!”

Thor’s voice was loud and almost—relieved?

“I have been searching for you everywhere.”

He tried to hide his surprise, succeeded just barely in time as Thor skidded to a stop in front of him, thick arms coming up and enveloping him in a bone crushing hug.

“I am afraid I do not comprehend what is happening. Is something the matter, brother?”

The blonde shook his head, his hold tightening as he pressed his stubble covered cheek against the top of the raven’s head. “Stay by my side today, brother. Please. I can’t—something feels off.”

“With you,” Loki questioned, hands reaching up to push strands of wheat blonde hair aside and look at his brother’s eyes. They seemed darker than normal.

A brusque nod was his response.

“Very well, then, Thor,” he agreed quickly, pulling back and placing a reassuring hand on Thor’s shoulder. He could visibly see the blonde sagging in relief and it worried him. How off must Thor feel to be relieved to have _Loki_ —of all people—at his side during a battle?

Turns out, something was off, and as Loki struggled to keep the binds of magic around his brother, struggled to keep his voice calm as the blonde writhed and roared in his binds, he thanked the Norns that the blonde had the foresight to keep him close.

“Thor, listen to me— _listen_ to me.”

He tightened the bindings as he stepped closer. Storming blue eyes focused on him, teeth bared. It was a feral look, primal, hungry, and Loki swallowed before taking another step closer.

“Thor, listen to my voice.”

He crouched, heard the roiling of thunder as rain pounded down on his back and washed away the blood and grime staining both of their faces and he reached a pale hand out, dodging Thor’s teeth that tried to clamp down on his wrist.

Animalistic, beastly—

_Berserk…_

“Calm down,” Loki soothed as he finally got his hand on Thor’s head and ran his fingers through the wet locks, fingers undoing the braids, easing tangles and he pulled his magic back to him. He was tired.

Odin’s plan had been dangerous and had failed, even more extremely than Loki had guessed.

There were far more deaths on both sides that was necessary and then Thor had lost control and the amount tripled.

Powerful hands lashed out and grabbed at his sides, fingers pressing painfully into his ribs, but Loki continued stroking wet hair, kept whispering about mindless things, talking about how he loved it whenever it rained because it reminded him of Thor—mentioned that one time when they were kids and Thor crawled into Loki’s room to sleep with him ‘ _just in case the storm scares you’._

The pressure increased, he was almost certain his heard a crack or two and then Thor’s eyes cleared up from the clouded haze they were in, widening at the sight of his brother clutched tightly in his arms. His fingers lessened, but Loki could tell Thor felt the shifting of broken bone because horror crossed his face and the rain pounded down harder.

“Are you calm now, Thor?”

The blonde stared at him, eyes wide; mouth slightly agape before curling his arms gently around the raven and tugging him close. “I’m calm, I’m calm.”

The words were repeated like a mantra—as if Thor thought that if he said it enough, Loki wouldn’t go.

Loki didn’t leave, though.

He never could.

 

 

 

 

 

“Man of Iron and Banner, where are you headed?” A booming voice from behind called and Loki didn’t think twice about pulling his seidr around him and shrouding himself from sight.

“Point-break,” Tony called in greeting as the thunder god walked up to them and Loki stepped back, slowly moving away from the group. “We were heading to get something to eat with agent,” he paused, wide brown eyes looking about, “over here. Bruce, where did he go?”

The doctor scanned their surroundings eyes wide and curious before shrugging his shoulders, brow furrowed. “I don’t,” Bruce stumbled backwards as agents rushed by, shouting for someone to get some liquid nitrogen, “know—what’s going on?”

Tony frowned, fingers curling as a shudder ran down his spine. “I have no idea.”

 

 

 

So, when he teleported away, he once more was only thinking of somewhere safe, somewhere on the helicarrier that was safe.

Unfortunately, that was his mistake because he ended up in one of the rooms on the helicarrier, which was fine, until he realized he wasn’t alone.

In regular circumstances, he would have gotten out of there, fled, but that had been too close and he was so not mentally prepared for that storm and the panic was rapidly settling in and there was no way he was stable enough to teleport once more. In this state, he’d probably teleport different body parts into different locations, or maybe he’d end up leaving his spine in the room and teleport to Coulson and promptly die without the support of his backbone.

It was unlikely any good would come of it.

So when the good captain crouched down next to him, asking if he was fine, what he needed, he managed to rasp out a weak “LN2” before he was busy trying to claw enough air into his lungs. He heard the blonde run to the door and shout for someone to get him some liquid nitrogen before rushing back to Loki’s side.

It was a relief that the captain didn’t question the odd request.

“Agent—agent, can you hear me?”

Steve was gripping his shoulders tight, holding him close, trying not to move him too much, but Loki couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The cold fingers of panic and anxiety wrapped around his throat and squeezed.

He could hear Steve chanting a soft, panicked ‘ _oh god, oh god, oh god’_ above him and the steady stream of noise brought him back from the brink long enough that when the agent burst in to toss a syringe full of the familiar substance, Loki managed to catch it and stab it into his arm, let the icy liquid fill his bloodstream and fell limp onto his side.

Steve’s _‘oh god’s’_ got louder as he fumbled above Loki’s still form, pulling out the needle and tossing it aside before fingering his pulse. “Isn’t this stuff poisonous? Oh my god, I just killed a man. Oh my god—agent, talk to me. Say something. Oh Jesus, by the love of god, are you alright?”

Maybe if he had been a bit more aware, he wouldn’t have laughed over the captain’s concern because he could only imagine what this looked like. A man appearing out of nowhere and then injecting himself with liquid nitrogen—this probably looked pretty damn bad.

“Close the door and call Director Fury.”

“Right—okay— _oh god_.”

 

 

 

 

 

The ensuing conversation sure was something. Steve had dutifully listened, face straight once Fury clarified that _‘no, Agent U235 will not be dying’_. Apparently he had only needed the assurance of that before he began questioning nearly everything that happened.

Fury’s explanation was brief and to the point.

“What you just experienced was a panic attack. I’m sure a lot of soldiers used to get those before and after the war.”

Steve nodded.

“Agent here has endured some emotional trauma during his childhood. A recent situation has reversed the progress he had made on overcoming them.”

And then who he was began to be explained and Loki merely slouched next to Steve as the nitrogen was swept out of his system.

He didn’t need to hear this—he already knew this, obviously.

So, with the time now offered, he let himself slip into his thoughts, take time to finally process all this. All he had needed this entire time was just a moment to get his mind together, to truly and wholly take this all in.

Thor was here.

Asgard would know where he was soon.

Amora was loose on Midgard.

Amora had the Tesseract.

He had used three syringes of liquid nitrogen today.

He had suffered two panic attacks today.

Captain America now knew who he was.

Inhaling shakily, he pressed his fingertips together, lips pursing and mind whirring. He was safe, though. Coulson was right. Thor couldn’t take from him anything he didn’t let him. He just had to calm down and get his bearings. That was all.

Thor didn’t know he was here yet.

He couldn’t run away next time.

He needed to face this.

Ice prickled at his fingers as the lingering effects of the nitrogen finally ebbed away. Breathing slowly, he let the tips of his fingers turn blue, right where they were pressing together. A stream of air escaped his nostrils as his head tilted downwards.

He had to face this.

Thor was just a person.

A god to the mortals, but to Loki he was just a person.

Besides—it’s not like his feelings were a secret to Thor anymore.

Except for they were because Thor was an oaf and probably hadn’t seen the situation at all like Loki had that year and a half ago.

The situation just seemed to want to string itself into a more complicated mess than it actually was.

“Loki—as in like from where Thor’s from? He’s Thor’s brother?”

Director Fury nodded.

“I just injected Thor’s brother with liquid nitrogen. _Okay,”_ the blonde breathed out slowly, rocking up onto his feet, “I think I need to lie down for a bit.”

And then the captain fell forward.

“I think that’s an information overload for someone from the twentieth century, Director,” Loki softly mused, looking at the fallen blonde before tugging himself to his feet as well. “I’ll take care of him.”

 

 

 

 

 

So, he might have lied. He had honestly no idea how to take care of an unconscious super soldier who had just gotten an information overload. After getting the Captain onto a transfigured bed, he took care of him like he would Natasha or Clint and hoped it was fine.

Did super soldiers have different needs?

Probably not, he concluded as he settled down on the floor next to the blonde to start a silent vigil till the man woke up. He probably needed a moment. He knew he would if that had been him.

Watching the unconscious man, though, Loki couldn’t help but remember the time he had taken care of Natasha. It had been completely silent while he fixed her suit. The first time he had met Natasha, the first member of his family on Midgard.

He wouldn’t lose them—he _couldn’t_ lose them.

He didn’t want to start over again, didn’t want to live in a world where he was just the brother of Thor to people, the lost son of the Asgardian realm.

Loki had probably been lost in his thoughts too long because there was a sudden heavy hand on top of his head and when he looked up it was to see a newly conscious Steve Rogers looking down at him with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Chin up, soldier.”

It was odd, probably something Steve said to the Howling Commandos if memory on the man’s report served him right. However, that one simple line seemed to somehow brighten Loki’s entire day.

 

 

 

 

When they flounced into the cafeteria—well, Clint flounced, Natasha walked; like a regular human being—they had both been expecting to at least see Loki. What they encountered was a scientist, a billionaire, a god, and a very tired looking Coulson.

There were other agents scattered about, but no Loki and a frown instantly pulled on Natasha’s face. Clint seemed just as confused and slightly upset as they walked over to Coulson, one on either side of him, bodies tilted inward as if to signalize that the conversation was exclusively for them.

“How’s everyone doing?” Clint called as he walked over to the table, grabbing a bag of chips from the rack on the way and plopping himself down on the bench next to a certain Asgardian god. Natasha’s eyes narrowed, but as she stalked over, she noticed the slightest twitching of the agents fingers as he fingered through his chips, the slight dip where he chewed the inside of his cheek.

Slinking over, she slipped into the seat next to him as Stark began talking about how the energy of the tesseract should be easily tracked after the adjustments Bruce and he had made and then his rant turned over to the captain and then to the director and then to SHIELD in general.

“And then that agent from before—what was his name?”

“Agent U235,” Banner supplied, taking a bite from his ham sandwich as Clint straightened almost imperceptibly.

“Who is this agent you speak of?” Thor questioned and really; she could finally understand what Loki had meant whenever he described the blonde’s voice as booming.

 

 

 

 

“You Midgardian people call him the god of thunder.”

“Is he not?” Natasha looked up from where she was curled up against the raven’s chest as his fingers halted in her hair as he tilted his head down to look at her with a slightly raised brow and a kind smile. It was what she enjoyed about the raven. His kindness was near unparalleled.

“No, he is, very much so. His voice booms like thunder, as well. I remember I used to know he was coming in my direction even when he was on the other side of the castle. Absolutely useless on stealth missions, he was.” A weak laugh left him and when she tilted her head up again to look at him, she saw the faraway look in those green emeralds, the way his lips were pulled in a smile, but the corners turned down in sadness.

There was always a certain fondness and grief in the god’s eyes whenever he spoke of his adopted brother.

“How can a voice sound like thunder?”

“I don’t particularly know. Why don’t you ask him?”

She blinked in confusion and he laughed, chest vibrating with the soft sound as he carded slender fingers through his hair with a warm grin. “Eventually you will probably meet him. Asgard will eventually find me.”

She snorted delicately, folding into his embrace a bit more.

“Well, when they do, we’ll be there to greet them with _McNuggets_ and a ‘please leave’ card.”

“Please tell me you actually got my McNuggets, though,” Natasha warned and he laughed, shaking his head.

“Nope, sorry; I stopped at Wendy’s instead. Ran into it first on the way back here; I got you a lot of nuggets, though.”

The red-head sighed, but smiled as she slowly straightened, reluctantly leaving the complicated cool warmth of Loki’s arms. “Come on, Lo; time to eat.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“He was the guy helping us in the lab, though he didn’t do much other than lurk there. We hardly noticed he was there except for when Tony happened to be standing there and we saw him.”

Thor’s brow furrowed in confusion and then his lips pressed tight, eyes darkening slightly as if he had just remembered something.

“What’s wrong, point-break?”

The blonde jerked, shook his head and smiled at them as if he hadn’t just suddenly gone all morose on them. Natasha could see the appeal in him. At least she knew Loki didn’t have shabby taste in men.

“Nothing; it just reminded me a bit of my brother.”

Bruce cocked a brow. “Your brother?”

“Yes—he was a trickster of sorts; had a knack for making himself unnoticeable.”

Natasha grimaced and resisted the urge to hiss that ‘maybe Loki didn’t make himself invisible—maybe people just made him seem invisible’.

“He left a few days back.”

Clint had to grab her hand to keep her from lunging across him and strangling the god of thunder as he flashed another bright smile at those around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Sorry again about its length and the shortness of it. I completely forgot it was midterm week and I was in such a hurry to study I barely got time to write, so I spent most of my free time yesterday typing away.
> 
> Comments are always loved and appreciated, as well as kudos and all. Feel free to ask me any questions, leave prompts, or just share your thoughts. I love it all. Thanks again, guys!


	5. Chapter o5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I know it has been awhile. I'm sorry for that. This chapter gave me so much trouble. I just really wasn't feeling it for this chapter. It just seemed to drag and it took forever to write it and then I had to re-write it, then revise, then re-write and revise again. It was terrible. I'm still not feeling it one hundred percent, but I figured this was probably as good as it was going to get considering the fact that it has been two weeks approximately.
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter five!
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd. Sorry.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

“You don’t sleep much, do you?”

After finally having calmed down from the initial information overload and gotten talked through it slowly once coming back to consciousness, Steve Rogers was rather calm about the ordeal.

_“I survived roughly seventy years underground as a block of ice. I think I have a hard time_ not _believing you.”_

Loki shook his head in response, carding his fingers through his hair and chewing lightly on his bottom lip. Surprisingly enough, the whole reveal had left him feeling lighter than he had before—with a clearer mind, per se. Compartmentalizing was easier now and he took advantage of the brief time to sort through his thoughts; to wrap his mind around the situation.

His heart was calm now, no longer beating its wings against his rib cage like a captured bird and his blood was no longer roaring with a burning heat. Now, he felt cool, lightly frosted; like the beauty of the grass on a cold spring morning.

Masks he hadn’t used in a while were sorted through and brought down, walls put up. His magic squirmed restlessly in his gut and he bit his lip just a bit harder, reigning in the trembling power.

“Are you hungry, Captain Rogers?”

“Please—just Steve. Captain is just,” he trailed off, but Loki nodded in understanding.

“Stiff, uncomfortable, weighted?”

Steve puffed a laugh, breathy and somewhat relieved—to a degree, at least.

“So, food?” he asked, hauling himself to his feet and then holding out a helping hand to Captain Rogers, who stared at it a bit dubiously for some time before accepting it, pulling himself up to his feet as well with a small huff.

“Yeah, I could eat, though judging from the time, it’s nearing a midnight snack instead of lunch.”

Loki’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall and he breathed a quiet laugh, watching the hands tick to 10:34 at night. Wincing internally at the time, he walked to the door. “You may sleep after you have eaten, Steve,” he murmured as he walked down the halls, nodding curtly to agents that walked by.

“How long have you been an agent?”

“Approximately a year and five months, eleven days,” Loki responded, shrugging a shoulder and continuing to walk, confident and purposeful with the captain at his side walking in very much the same manner. It was quite a sight to behold if he thought about it.

“That’s pretty exact.”

“It was the best thing that had happened to me in a _very_ long time,” Loki admitted quietly, shooting the super-soldier a small smile, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he continued to walk, moving towards the cafeteria.

“So, does everyone know? About you, I mean,” Steve asked, voice low as if he was afraid of attracting attention and Loki nodded his head a bit, just a small bob.

“Only SHIELD agents know, though the majority assume I am merely the god of lies come to play until I get bored. Only a select few know the real reason as to why I came to Midgard in the first place and I intend to keep it that way.” He stopped now, clutching the blonde man’s hand and he stopped as well. “Do not feel like you have to keep this a secret, Steve.”

“But you just said—”

“A select few, I know.” Giving the hand a firm squeeze he let it drop. “I never said they had to keep it quiet. They willingly kept it vague, but I never asked it of them. Gods are exactly like mortals. We have the same problems—sometimes maybe on a larger scale. I feel no shame in running away from an environment that seemed to be detrimental to my health.”

“So, if anyone were to ask me specifically?”

“You could answer however you like. I do not mind either way. The choice is yours.”

“But—”

“Rogers,” Loki said now, voice hard, but assuring; green eyes dancing in the artificial lights, “I will not think any less of you regardless of what you say. Now, food—come on,” and they were back to walking down the hall, Rogers sporting a contemplative frown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In hindsight, he should have thought again about going to the lunch room. Although he had gotten his mind in order and his thoughts were in perfectly neat lines and not complete disarray, he still didn’t want to face his brother.

If he had bothered to think for a bit, he would have remembered that he had been leading Tony and Bruce to the lunch room and left because Thor had shown up. Of course, his mind decided now to fail him and his detailed memory.

So, as they walked in, Steve telling him about the videos he used to shoot as Captain America before he actually started doing military things—something other than parading bout in a star spangled suit with dancing ladies, Loki immediately froze, a long frigid line spreading up and down his spine.

“It does sort of remind me of Stark’s expos.” Steve paused in his walking, looking back at Loki with questioning eyes. And then he was whirling around, shield coming off his back and held in front of him as an arrow bounced off the metal.

“Clint,” Loki called warningly and the archer straightened, wincing a bit at the glare directed his way. It was somewhat endearing how chastised he seemed after just the simple utterance. His reaction was always near instantaneous. As he surveyed the room, he caught sight of Natasha next to Clint, holding a freshly opened bag of chips, eye brow raised.

Lifting his hands, he signed quickly a brief run-down of what happened. Clint always understood much faster than Natasha when it came to sign language, though, and he was up and out of his seat before Natasha had finished processing the words.

“Welcome to the club, captain,” Clint crowed as he stopped before them and the poor captain merely blinked in confusion, shield still clutched tightly in his hand, nervously licking his lips and appearing to be waiting for another attack.

“At ease, soldier,” Loki whispered, lips quirking teasingly and he saw the tension in Steve’s body increase before bleeding out slowly and his teasing smile turned triumphant at the sight.

“Another one?’ was what Natasha asked as she walked over, popping a chip into her mouth. At his nod, she walked next to him, letting their shoulders brush together, lips pulled into a tight grim line. “Thor went to use the restroom.”

“Our ‘facilities’, as he put it,” Clint cut in, face clearly amused at the word choice.

Loki nodded his head, walking in further even as his breathing picked up a bit, heart starting to build up to the crazed beating of before. His magic sparked at his fingertips, the cold spreading up the slender appendages and panic rising, but he beat it down.

He could do this.

It was only Thor.

Thor.

Who he had kissed when he left.

Swallowing, he walked to the line, smiling at the lady there and getting his usual serving of fruits and honey. Walking to the table Clint and Natasha had come from; he sat down, finally noticing Bruce and Tony who had been watching the exchange.

“Is there something we’re missing?” Bruce asked, slow and cautious like he thought Loki was some sort of bomb that would blow up if not handled delicately.

“A small thing,” Steve responded before Loki could open his mouth and he slid in next to Loki, his plate sporting an array of sandwiches, more than your typical mortal man could stomach without keeling over, but he guessed being a super-soldier required more sustenance than others.

“Are we going to be filled in, Cap’? Because I’m not a fan of being out of the loop.” Tony’s voice was casual, flippant and nonchalant and Loki found himself more relieved at the drawl of it. It was better than Bruce’s hedging.

“Neither do I,” was the curt response given and Loki knew that it was probably just Steve’s annoyance at not understanding most of the things that had slipped Tony’s lips in the Quinjet.

A muscle in the man’s jaw twitched, teeth clenching in annoyance and Loki gave him a small smile, attempting to be reassuring as he played with a strawberry dipped in honey. Frost spread along the honey, solidifying it and creating an intricate pattern of blue white ice.

“You’ll find out in a minute.”

And just as Loki had said, Thor burst into the room not moments later, a smile in place as he strode over. The smile soon started to slip, though, as his eyes met absinthe eyes.

When he spoke, he uttered a single word in a broken tone, eyes wide and jaw slack.

“Loki?”

 

 

 

 

 

There were nights where Loki couldn’t sleep. Whines grew in his throat as the darkness wore on before he could no longer handle it and would crawl underneath the bed, remove that single stone piece and revel in the frightening, yet soothing, blue glow of the casket.

Times like that were dangerous. Heimdall could be able pinpoint the location when he did that and no, he couldn’t have that. If Heimdall found it, he would take it away, he would get in trouble and then—maybe—not even his position as the second price of Asgard would save him. Not after a crime like this; a crime Odin said could be punishable with an unforeseen length of time in the prisons of Asgard, barricaded from the world.

Maybe—Loki couldn’t help but think sleepily, curling up around the hole under his bed, bathing in the blue glow—just maybe, they wouldn’t take his magic away if that happened.

Nights like this were also dangerous because under the blue light of the casket, Loki was prone to fall asleep, curled under his bed, one hand hanging lazily over the edge into the hole, fingertips barely brushing the icy surface.

It was on one such morning where he had found himself seeking the comfort of the relic of his heritage that his very own brother—a symbol for a heritage he did not bear—came barreling into his chambers, a cry of his name on his lips. Loki jolted, though, at the sound of thundering footsteps and almost immediately his hand shot out, grasping the stone cover and pulling it over the hole, his body then flinging itself onto the surface of it.

“Brother? Are you in here?”

He could see the shadow cast by the male and as he approached further into the room, he could see his feet, safely tucked in his shoes.

“Loki?”

In his haste to scramble out from under the bed, he smacked his forehead against the side before poking his head out and his hands flew to cover it, feeling a bump.

The bump was not a bruise, however, and suddenly getting out from under the bed was the least of his desires. Squirming back under it, he frantically searched his skin, looking at the royal blue marring it, the raised lines trialing up and down his arms.

Willing his magic to cover his skin,, at least as an illusion until his skin naturally went back to its Asgardian hue, he turned just in time to have Thor’s eyes connect with his as he peeked his head under the bed, blue eyes searching and curious.

“Loki?”

“Thor,” he responded primly, one hand still pressing against his forehead.

 

 

 

 

 

“Agent U235, presently, but yes,” was his drawled response as he dipped the tip of a strawberry into honey, lifting it to his lips and biting into it delicately.

To a degree, he felt bad, looking at Thor’s expression, that heartbroken expression that was slowly transforming into fury.

“Brother,” the blonde growled and Loki hid his wince as he heard the telltale rumble of thunder outside.

“Do calm down, Thor; we have more people arriving and it would be nice if they arrived rare instead of well done.”

“Wait,” Tony spoke up, palms pressing flat into the table. “Brother? Loki? Are you meaning to tell me that Loki, the god of mischief and lies and everything remotely funny about the stories, is your brother? The one that left a few days ago?”

Although it wasn’t a complicated story when you had all of the pieces, Loki couldn’t help but be a bit impressed at how quickly Tony put it together. He wasn’t called a genius for nothing.

Now, Loki drew himself up straight in his seat, nipping the strawberry with slightly sharper teeth as he forced his heritage to calm, to remember his royal upbringing.

_“Family matters are to never be discussed outside of the castle walls and to anyone not trusted. We will seem weak otherwise and it could upset the balance.”_

It was a small, barely there, comfort to think that at least Thor had paid attention to that rule, though a small part of him wondered if it was that he actually hadn’t noticed after he got over the initial shock.

“That is correct, Man of Iron,” Thor rumbled and he saw Natasha tense from where she was standing a few feet away with Clint and Steve. Clint was fingering the string of his bow and Loki made note to talk to him about having his weapons out while people were eating. It was rude.

“How is mother?” Loki questioned, keeping the same cool air as before, remembering how he used to have to deal with Thor when he was being irrational, when his mother would be too tired to try and reason with the blonde.

“As well as she always is after you disappear,” Thor hissed, taking a few menacing steps forward and he watched Natasha move to walk closer, but he appeased her with a simple tilt of his head and the smallest upturn of his lips.

“So, thriving, I presume?”

“After mourning you leaving,” Thor added bitterly, lips pulling into a tight line and his fingers clenching, probably wishing he was holding his hammer. But the presence of the hammer in his hand would be viewed as nothing other than threatening.

“But she’s getting on fine now, I presume. It’s been long enough for her to have recovered.”

“And then she’ll be suffering once more when you return only to leave once more.”

At this Loki, stood, pushing his fruit away from him and giving a quick glare at Tony who snagged a few grapes, popping them all into his mouth happily.

“She won’t.”

And he walked past the blonde, biting back a yelp at the sharp pain from the shock of electricity from the proximity. It seemed Thor’s anger still knew no bounds.

“Agent Coulson, I do believe the lady Foster might experience a bit of trouble getting here. Do send some help.”

“Fos—as in Jane Foster?”

At the sound of his brother’s voice again, with such an emotion in it, he straightened and cast a glance back. “That is none of your concern.” And then he walked away.

 

 

 

 

 

Good moods for Loki were certainly hard to come by. When your adoptive parents were the king and queen of a realm and your brother was the golden boy always outshining you, it was understandable as to why he would be in a sour mood at a near constant rate.

Good moods were far and few between, but a truly _bad_ mood was just as rare. Although he might not always be floating on a cloud of rainbows and lollipops, he certainly wasn’t wishing death on the nearest objects.

But as he saw Jane Foster running into the arms of one Thor, god of thunder, Loki felt his mood finally strike truly awful.

That had been exactly what he needed to see after finally seeing his brother after practically a year and a half. He _definitely_ needed to see that he had a new piece of arm candy hanging off his arm and that this time he seemed genuine about her.

Though, Thor was always genuine about everyone, so he really couldn’t be that surprised. The man had been genuine about Amora, for Hel’s sake!

There went all his hope; he noted numbly, brow furrowed in the center as his arms tightened in their crossed position over his chest. Clint was standing next to him and he winced as their lips met. Tony looked away, surprisingly—with his reputation, it was expected that he not mind—, joining Clint in making immature gagging noises at the sight.

Natasha placed a hand comfortingly on his lower back and he leaned into it; let her feel the slight press of his weight.

If the circumstances were different, they would end up in a pile that night on the bed, but with things as it were, none of them would be getting a peaceful night’s sleep.

From the way Thor’s hands sneaked lower, those two would certainly not be having quiet night’s rest either.

“Ms. Foster,” Agent Coulson bit out, standing to Loki’s left and his presence was reassuring on so many levels, washing his heartbreak away if only for the moment, “we are in a very serious period of time right now. I understand stress levels are high, but we need you to be focused on the problem.”

Work—he could think about work. Work wasn’t making him feel like he had just been gutted and his insides were spilling out onto the floor.

Phil tossed him a look once the two had separated and Loki breathed deeply, slipping into a clearer head space as he took the tablet held out to him by the agent.

“You are familiar with a man named Erik Selvig, yes?”

She nodded, but her eyes grew wide with fear and her lips parted and he had to quell his rising irritation as she spoke. “Is he alright? Where is he? Am I going to be working with him?”

“Jane—” Thor attempted to intervene, but Loki beat him to the punch.

“Ms. Foster, do shut up and let me speak.”

Mentally, he cursed himself for being rude, but as Stark snorted and hid a laugh behind Steve’s broad shoulders, he couldn’t bring himself to be all that mad at himself. He had talked to higher people in much worse manners and gotten away with it. Plus, it was amusing watching a man like Tony Stark using the difference in stature between him and the super-soldier.

A quick glance at Thor proved that he certainly hadn’t been expecting such a lapse in politeness and had definitely not appreciated it.

Some people just didn’t get the humor of the situation.

Sighing in disdain, he continued. “He was taken by the woman who stole the tesseract.”

“Then why aren’t we getting people out to find him? He should be our top priority. What if he’s dead?”

“Loki, she is not wrong. If a friend of ours was captured, he should be looked for immediately.”

“He could be dead for all we know,” he left out the ‘or care’, though it was heavily implied. Clint didn’t like the man after all and he had said one too many rude comments on his favorite archer for Loki to muster enough energy to even _try_ caring. “Besides, our top priority is getting the tesseract back.”

“Erik was helping you, though, wasn’t he? He gave his time to this project and now you’re asking him to give his life?”

Phil’s lips were pursed and he seemed about as annoyed with the situation as Loki did, if the white knuckled way his hands were clasping each other was anything to go by. Clint seemed to be longing to bang his head against the wall, eyes pressing tightly closed and he could see the man’s fingers twitching.

“Out of sight, out of mind doesn’t work when they’re talking to you,” Natasha whispered to the archer and the man let out an inaudible whine.

“Ms. Foster, there are always casualties in a war and we are trying to keep that size as minimal as possible.”

“This is my friend’s life on the line, though.”

“It’s all our lives on the line!” Loki hissed with such venom that she seized up, pressing back into Thor as if the bumbling oaf would be able to protect her from the poison of Loki’s cutting words. It would do her no good, though. He straightened, though, wiping his face clean of expression as he held the tablet out to her, watching her take it with trembling hands.

He could practically feel how pleased Natasha was, her fingers drawing a heart onto the small of his back and he barely managed to suppress a smile.

“We brought you here, though, for your own safety considering the fact that you have worked with him before. We didn’t want to take any chances of the enemy getting its hands on something they could potentially use.” Now he held out motioned to the tablet. “On that are the projects you were working on for SHIELD. You may monitor them and make extra notes. Presently displayed on it is the map to direct your room. An agent will escort you, as well.”

“If you gave me a map, why have an agent take me?”

“We wouldn’t want you stumbling upon something that isn’t your business, would we?”

 

 

 

 

As a soldier, Steve was trained to constantly have his eyes peeled, keep himself on alert for any threat. Funnily enough, in the situation he just witnessed go down, the only threat he felt was that of Jane Foster and Thor.

Loki was tense in between Agents Coulson and Romanov, Barton standing behind Loki, slightly on his right. There was obvious displeasure on all of their faces and once Jane was safely down the hall, Coulson jumped into talking about how SHIELD got a few odd energy signatures from areas around the world, though it was typically in largely populated cities, so they had no way of knowing if it could be Amora.

Loki seemed to grow even tenser and Clint and Natasha seemed to react accordingly, like they were finely tuned to Loki’s levels of agitation as they shifted closer, Natasha’s thumb rubbing soothingly along the elastic leather covered back.

Inwardly he wondered how those suits were comfortable. They were ridiculously tight looking, though then he thought about the suit he was wearing, and decided it really wasn’t fair for him to judge.

Clint was letting his arms brush while Agent Coulson was flipping through the images on the second tablet he had. Tony and Bruce looked vaguely confused in the corner until something Phil said seemed to catch Bruce’s attention and he made a quick comment in alarm and then Loki was straightening, tension bleeding out.

It was like a switch had been flipped and it was ridiculous in a way, how at ease Loki seemed to become in the midst of chaos, shoulders slumping as if a great weight had been removed from them as he steps forward, away from the comfort of his friends as he begins to talk.

“Seidr pulses are what she’s doing,” Loki commented, seemingly agitated now, teeth clenching as he looked down at tablet with Dr. Banner and Steve frowned in confusion. It was a small comfort to realize that he wasn’t the only one confused because Loki cast a look around and immediately launched into an explanation

As he tossed a glance at Thor, he could see the way the blonde seemed to look so hopelessly lost as he gazed at his brother, eyes soft and somber. But there was a sort of hardness in his jaw and in the way he held himself, like he couldn’t let himself relax when in the presence of his sibling.

It was odd.

“Seidr pulses—I used to do it as a child. Whenever I didn’t want to get tracked easily, I would teleport all over the kingdom and let out a cloud of seidr. It’s kind of like a—a water balloon,” Loki folded his hands over each other, cupping them and seeming to be molding something, “and it has a timer, essentially.”

The thing he was molding was thrown into the air and hovered there. It was a small green ball and you could see swirls, watch it shifting in the restrained shape. It was like it was alive, like eels in water—though that would be a lot of eels and quite a lacking bit of the necessary amount of water.

Maybe more like jellyfish…

“When that clock hits the minute mark, this is going to let off a pulse, like an explosion, though it’s completely harmless, so fret not. The energy signature irregularity should show up on your screen.”

And true to his word, it did. As the clock hit the minute, the ball burst and it showed up on the screen, a hovering red dot over the position of the helicarrier.

“We’ll get nowhere tracking her this way, then,” Steve concluded, releasing a sigh as he slouched slightly in defeat.

“Do not lose heart. We will find her eventually. Wherever the tesseract is, she most likely will be as well. There are many ways we can find her and the tesseract.”

It was surprising to hear the words coming from Thor’s mouth and Steve looked over at the same time Loki did. The blonde was standing proud, arms crossed and posture confident, though his eyes looked less so and the captain saw them slip over to glance at Loki quickly before flipping back to Agent Coulson.

He guessed if it had been his brother that had disappeared for the last year and half, he wouldn’t believe it either.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The tips of Loki’s fingers turned blue, Steve noticed, and they didn’t go back to their regular color as they were tucked beneath the palm of his hands.

Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was chapter five. I'm so terrible sorry that it was such a flat chapter. Hopefully the next one will be better. We'll be hopefully picking up the pace a bit, so please look forward to that. Thank you for reading this fic!
> 
> I love comments, so please drop me some. They brighten my day. And kudos are always appreciated. They make me smile.
> 
> Till next Monday!


	6. Chapter o6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay--I know I'm late with this chapter as well and I'm very much sorry, but I'm ill currently with something. My doctor has no idea what it is, so I'm currently trying to get that resorted with.
> 
> However, I have gotten this chapter done with and here it is! I hope it wasn't too bland. I'm sorry if it was bland. I tried my best with it, but pain is terrible and not inspirational at all.
> 
> Enjoy chapter six, though!
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd. Sorry, guys!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

The next few days found them all working in haste to get a read on the tesseract in any way possible. Tony and Bruce spent the majority of their time in the lab, monitoring the energy waves, entertaining themselves with tinkering. Bruce did more research on the tesseract energy from what they could make out from Dr. Selvig’s work, but there wasn’t much to be seen. The man recorded only things that he deemed interesting and hadn’t worked as hard as he should have.

Clint kept as far away from the situation as he could, and he steered clear of Jane Foster completely. She apparently set his hair on end just as Erik had. Typically he spent his time in the high corners of rooms where Natasha and Loki would join him whenever either of them pleased.

Natasha was off training and running through stats with the teams of agents, getting them ready. Phil was typically with her, as well as Director Fury. They would keep half of their mind on the problem, the other half on the training. It worked, a systematic way of ostracizing themselves from everything else.

Clint and Loki joined them whenever they felt like it, also.

Steve spent his time listening to the battle strategies they had planned if an attack was to be made upon the helicarrier. It was a good thing to be prepared for and he was a soldier—he loved being prepared.

There were times he would spend with Loki and the others, trading jokes and laughs, getting to know the twenty-first century just a little bit better. It was fascinating learning how much things had changed from the time of World War II to now.

Loki spent his time in his chamber—a simple room with four solid walls and no door. It was designed specifically for him, for when he needed to do his own training and couldn’t risk having other agents being near enough to get hurt, or lingering.

The walls were bare of all decoration and Loki would spend hours there, meditating, training with his magic, making potions to help with the upcoming battle because everyone knew there was going to be one. They could feel it, in the air, in their bones.

This was something that wouldn’t be solved peacefully, unfortunately.

Loki had known that from the second he laid eyes on Amora.

From the day he met her, he knew.

Amora was going to come back and bite him in the ass.

He had simply assumed it would be while he was still on Asgard.

What a foolish mistake that was.

His preferred form of weaponry had always been a spear, or a scepter, or a staff, or his daggers. Since coming to Midgard, he had developed a sort of odd fondness for guns as well. Beautiful creations. They could deliver death swiftly from the other side of the street without having to waste a single bit of energy other than to pull the trigger.

It was an exciting creation.

But when he was alone in his own special training room, he would tune everything out and use his seidr, conjure up a foe and fight them. His magic was the hardest part of himself to train and it required long hours and a serious amount of energy.

It was his way of disappearing into his own world nowadays, when things became too much, when he missed home a bit too much and his mother’s hugs and the way she would crook her head down whenever he barreled into her rooms and buried his face amongst her skirts.

A series of bullets were fired in his direction and he dodged out of the way, sending a ripple of magic through the floor, watching the green blanket spread, thin but effective, destabilizing his oppponent.

When it came to fighting, he had a rule book, things he had learned after ages of training.

Rule number one; never expend too much energy or seidr. Doing so could be potentially fatal and the goal was always to make it out of a battle alive.

Rule number two; never go for the final blow unless there’s a one hundred percent chance that it’ll land and finish everything. If it doesn’t, then you’ve put yourself in a vulnerable position and gave false hope to any others fighting alongside you. Going from the fact that the people gathered on the task of finding the tesseract and Amora, this wasn’t a battle that was going to be fought one on one.

He ducked as a blade sliced where his head had formerly been and swept his leg out, knocking his opponent off their feet. He sprung back, landing in a semi-crouch. He’d learned ages ago it was best to train barefoot and with good reason.

Blue spread, from the point on his chest above his heart and traveled over his skin, covering it in a royal blue, absinthe eyes bleeding a light red, covering the whites and the irises. His nails grew to long dark claws, nearly black, on both fingers and toes and he could feel his teeth, sharp and pointed as he bared them, releasing a primal roar of rage that shook the walls.

Rule number three; focus, and only bring out your heritage when your enemy is fatigued. Although it came with greater power, Loki was immediately made vulnerable by using it. It was always a calculated risk.

The fight was over in a matter of seconds after that. Loki darted forward, feinting left before ducking right, using the wall as a jump board and shooting his body off of the wall and onto his opponents back. Claws dug into the neck, tore in, felt the liquid soaking his fingers as he ripped the neck open, teeth bared and eyes flashing sporadically between an all-encompassing red and an all-encompassing green.

The figure dropped to the ground and Loki landed on his feet lightly.

The blue receded, nails shortening, teeth straightening as his appearance took on his Asgardian form once more.

A sigh slipped past his lips and he drew himself up straight, waving his hand as the scene disappeared. The only downside with training was that when it was over, he felt a hole of emptiness opening up in his chest and all he wanted to do was flop down on a bed and sleep for endless days.

Which is what he ended up doing nearly always.

With what remained of his energy, he walked out the door, moving through the halls of the helicarrier quickly, finding Clint up in his nook as usual. He climbed the steps, smiling as he found Natasha there as well.

He flopped down, head in the Russian’s lap and legs draped over Clint’s. The agents glanced at each other before smiling, long fingers stroking through raven locks as Natasha murmured soft words in Russian, watching the body slowly relax as he drifted off to dreamless sleep.

Another day went by before they finally got a clue as to where Amora was.

The clue was, unfortunately, the blowing up of one of the propellers.

There was immediate panic at the explosion, but according to Maria, they would be fine with just three.

But then another one became out of commission and suddenly, there were no longer three—and they were dropping.

“Shit,” Loki hissed, running out his room and sprinting down the halls in the direction the chaos was coming from. The others ran in and joined, all looking vaguely confused as to what to do, with healthy amount of fear and confusion thrown in.

Bruce looked the worst out of all of them, a bit greener around the edges.

“Natasha,” he called and the redhead immediately hurried over to his side. “I need you to get Dr. Banner to the chamber and try and keep him calm. We have to make absolute sure he does not turn, you understand?”

She nodded before looping an arm around Bruce and beginning to drag him away.

“Tony, any idea if either of those propellers can be brought back up?”

“I can go out and check.”

Loki nodded. “Go ahead. Take Captain with you.”

He was thankful that neither Tony nor Steve argued with him, just doing as they were told, Tony heading off to go put on his suit. Loki pretended not to see the way the Captain hesitated between following Tony to ensure his safety, and heading down to where he was supposed to go.

“Clint, we need eyes up high. Use the rafters—do _not_ go through the vents.”

Clint grunted and moved to the wall to climb up to the ceilings, bow strapped across his back.

“Thor,” he cleared his mind, looking over at his brother the way they would whenever they were on the battlefield, “I need you to stay calm and go block the entrance to where Natasha took Dr. Banner. If the Hulk gets out, this battle will be lost before it’s begun. Try not to draw attention to yourself. The goal is to keep Banner _calm._ ” He placed a comm. in Thor’s ear. “You can now hear every relay we give to you, okay? Go.”

Thor nodded and took off down the hall.

Breathing out deeply through his nose, Loki pulled out his comm. from one of his pouches. Placing it in his ear, he began running down the hall.

“I need confirmation that everyone can hear me right now.”

“Loud and clear, Lo,” Tony chirped and Loki smiled a bit as Steve confirmed directly afterwards. Clint followed, sounding like a string pulled taut. Natasha was last to answer, after Thor and Loki sighed in relief once more.

“Stark, status.”

“I’m looking, I’m looking. Cap’, check out that board, would you?”

“You mean the circuit board?”

There was a lapse of silence before Tony snorted. “Right—cover my back instead.”

Loki ushered agents to head to the dock and take separate Quinjets in evacuation while other he put on the offense. “If you see Amora, do not engage. Inform us immediately, do you understand? Attack any of those who might be working with her. If you see any of the agents taken, knock them out, do not kill. They might be able to be saved.”

And that set of agents was off, running to go carry out their orders.

Inhaling sharply, he heard Clint mutter a sharp curse over the comm. and he automatically jerked up in response, head snapping up to the rafters.

“Incoming on your three o’clock, Captain; looks like they’re after Stark,” Clint hissed and Loki caught the briefest glances of Clint’s form, leaping from place to place, arrow strung in the bow and waiting to be fired.

“Shit. Rogers, do not let Amora get anywhere near you or Stark. If you see her, get out of there as soon as possible, find me.”

He took off down the hall, running as fast as he could, throwing a simple glamour over himself, shielding his appearance.

“Thor, try not to be seen by her, if possible.”

There was a rumbling sound, like Thor was humming in consideration and by the Nine did Loki remember how that sound vibrated in Thor’s chest, rolling through him like the thunders that he could make rumble outside.

“Very well, I shall do my best.”

Pulling his daggers from their holsters, he spun them around his fingers expertly as he ran down the hall, propelling himself off of walls and smacking controlled agents on the back of the head to disable them. It was the safest way to break them out of whatever funk they were in.

Knowing Amora, it was probably a sort of seductress magic rather than a simple mind control, and if not that then probably a death bind.

Loki winced mentally at the thought.

There were a few agents that were already too far gone on whatever to be saved. The tendrils of magic he sent out to seek how much of their consciousness was left, to determine if they could be saved, would receive close to none of the agents consciousness remained. Those who couldn’t be saved, he didn’t hesitate to slice the throat of.

Honorable agents or not, if they were beyond saving, he would grant them a quick death. It was the least he could do—the _only thing_ he could do.

“Nat, how is Banner holding up?”

There was silence before Natasha’s voice filtered through. He could hear her muttering in Russian for a brief moment before she tuned in to the comm. “He’s fine, put some music on. Hopefully he’ll hold like that for as much time as needed.”

“Right,” Loki responded, grunting as three agents fell upon him, flailing limbs hitting his sides and his stomach. Barely an ounce of their former selves remained and Loki didn’t hesitate to hit back, driving a dagger clean through one of the agent’s neck and the other slit the throats of the remaining two. He tried not to cringe at the sticky residue of the blood painting his normally pale skin an enchanting red. “Be prepared to take him on a Quinjet should we not wrap this up within the next twenty minutes or so.”

“Understood,” she stated and Loki thanked his lucky stars that he met her.

And suddenly he froze, eyes trained up above and he hated the fact that he couldn’t use his seidr at the moment. Hated the fact that if he did, everyone could be in more danger than they were already.

“Grenade—Clint, get out—”

And the bomb went off and all Loki could see was smoke and debris.

“ _Clint!_ ”

_Oh Norns; please no—please no, don’t let it be. Please don’t let it be._

A cough came over the comm.., a groan followed by a strained voice. “I’m fine, though I think I just voluntarily kneed myself in the jewels with the wall.”

He sagged against the wall in relief, glanced about at the other agents to see if they were fine before his eyes trailed to the ceiling, the blackened patches, missing pieces. “Vents?”

“Vents, but they’re fucking drenched in smoke.” Another cough and Loki started to worry all over again, running to the wall and pulling his body up the rungs. “Fuck, I can’t breathe.”

“Get out of there.”

“I’m trying! My foot’s stuck.” The coughs were becoming weaker and Loki swung himself around the rafters, ducking and searching, emerald eyes wild as he searched for whatever vent Clint had thrown himself into.

“Clint,” he breathed, catching sight of a foot poking out of the wall, leaping over missing pieces of the rafters to get to the vent, fingers gripping the ankle tightly as he finally reached close enough. “Clint, relax, I’m going to get you out, okay?”

_“Loki, Banner’s starting to look a little green around the edges.”_

“ _Norns…”_ He could feel his hands start to shake, but then Clint coughed weakly and shifted, grunting as he pulled on his other leg, the leg stuck in something. “Get him out of there. Take one of the jets and go. Your top priority is to _get Banner out of here._ ”

He summoned some magic, gripping the walls of the vent obstructing his view and tearing them away. Clint’s leg was caught under a twisted metal part of the vent, practically a shackle. Wrenching the metal away, he pulled Clint’s leg free before pulling his body out, balancing him against the wall, feet placed precariously on the beam Loki was balanced on.

“Clint?” He brushed away some of the soot covering Clint’s face with his sleeve, the fingers of his other hand pressing on his pulse point. The agent coughed, eyes blinking open blearily and Loki smiled at him, a relieved sigh escaping him. “I said no vents, Clint,” he teased and the blonde cracked a lazy grin.

“I think it’s a good show of where my priorities are that I’m more worried about the fact that I hit my balls than the fact that I almost died from suffocation.”

Loki barely suppressed a grin at that.

 

 

 

 

 

Out of everything he would prefer didn’t happen; Steve would prefer no one getting hurt. Of course, as a soldier that’s idealistic and not at all possible, but Steve was a super-soldier, he maintained faith that it could.

However, the second he heard Loki’s shout about a grenade, his stomach plummeted. Although he continued to work with Stark, he could tell that both of them had a quarter of their mind fixed on worrying about every other person there.

Barton ended up okay, though, and Steve automatically relaxed, but it was a bad time to do so because a series of bullets just whizzed by his head. Gripping his shield, he swung his arm out, watching the disk ricochet off the walls and hit the agent shooting in the head before bouncing off the opposite wall and back into his waiting hand.

“Stark?”

He could hear the man muttering to himself, some technical terms that Steve honestly could care less about hearing, but they were running out of time here.

“This thing isn’t going to get moving without a jump-start,” Stark commented, finally breaking out of whatever limbo he had been in. “I’m going to get in there and push.”

“You’ll be shredded, though.”

“See that red lever? Pull it when I tell you to. It’ll reverse the polarity long enough for me to get out.”

If only it was that simple.

They had already lost two of the engines, they were short of time, and a group of agents came and attacked Steve while Stark was setting out to get the propeller going. They were dropping fast and he could hear Loki yelling orders to other agents.

“Natasha, have you gotten Banner out?”

No response filtered in immediately and when it did, Steve was a bit busy dodging bullets to fully acknowledge it.

‘I hope that was a yes.” He muttered.

He could hear a low laugh on the other side of the comm. “That was an almost.”

Steve sighed, dodging another series of bullets before picking up a spare gun, tossed aside by one of the other fallen agents and shooting back at the man. It wounded him to admit that his aim was not the best at the moment.

“I’ll take it.”

_“Rogers,”_ Stark calls over the comm. and suddenly Steve remembers he has a fucking job to do, “I need you to pull the lever.”

“Give me a second,” he calls back, jumping over to the ledge where the lever is, but there’s bullets raining on his again and he grabs his shield, holding it up for protection, but there’s another guy behind him and he ducks, shooting a handful of bullets at the guy’s chest.

“Rogers—any day now; preferably _today_ , like, _right now_.”

“Give me a moment!”

He ducks, sending his shield to hit the other agent, but it misses, just barely and now he’s being shot at from both sides without his shield. For a brief moment, he curses the creators of guns as he flips over the ledge, grabbing a loose wire and swinging to the broken level below.

_“That’s not good…”_

His heart stops momentarily.

_Shit._

“ _Cap’, the lev—fuck!”_

He tries not to wince as he works around the floor at the level below, trying to get up as quickly as possible, but with those men in the way, it’s close to impossible. Lifting the gun, he aims at one of the men and fortunately hits the man in the chest.

Grabbing the loose wire from before, he swings himself up, stumbling as he rushes to the lever and pulls it, hears the fall of the Iron-man suit as the clashing stops. His victory is short lived as he flattens himself to the ground quickly to avoid the rain of bullets aimed at where his head had formerly been.

“I need a coffee,” filters in through the comm. and when he lifts his head once the firing is done, he sees Stark, still in the Iron-man suit, lying prone on the floor, next to the possibly dead agent.

Running over, he presses his fingers over the helmet. “Stark, open up.”

The face-mask lifts and Steve sighs as he sees the man’s eyes focus on his face, a cocky smirk pulling on his lips. “Took you long enough…”

He snorts, huffing a laugh as he slouches in his crouch, shaking his head. “I think Tony’s done for a bit. The suit took quite a beating.”

 

 

 

 

“Banner’s clear.”

It took only two words to take off most of the stress of off Loki’s mind.

Banner was out. The Hulk hadn’t come out and Banner was safe.

He drew in a much needed breath, feeling soft shudders course through his body as he let that tension slip.

“You’re with him, right?”

Natasha hummed in affirmative and Loki sighed once, letting the tension bleed out of his shoulders from where he was hanging upside down on the rafters, knees hooked firmly over it to prevent him from falling.

“Is Thor with you?”

Another hum was his response.

“What do we do?” Clint whispered, looking down at Loki, swinging his legs childishly, biting his lip and looking contemplative like he was thinking about it despite having asked the question.

“Take him to Stark Tower.” Tony said over the comm., sounding as tired as Loki expected after the man nearly got shredded in a propeller.

“Stark Tower? You mean that ugly,’ the captain paused and Loki barely held back a snort, imagining Tony’s expression at that moment, “building in New York?”

“U235?”

“Take him there. We’ll meet you there soon.”

Letting himself fall, Loki flipped to land lightly on his feet, surveying the damage around him as he padded around crumpled bodies and puddles of blood daintily, bare feet quiet on the ground.

“Everyone re-group in the lab,” Loki instructed, watching Clint drop down next to him with wary eyes. Although the archer was fine, Loki couldn’t help his concern. It could have ended a lot worse that it had and just the thought was enough to put him off his lunch.

 

 

 

 

The lab was thankfully intact when Loki walked in, seeing Steve and Tony there already, both slouched in chairs. The brunette looked like he was going to clock out at any second, eyes blinking blearily at him when he walked in.

Walking over, Loki pressed a hand to Stark’s head, feeling out for injuries and sending his magic into the man, healing a concussion and a fractured cheekbone.

“Jesus, talk about a head rush,” Tony grumbled, sliding down further in his seat and Loki couldn’t help but laugh, soft and low as he drew back, leaning his hip against one of the tables.

“Did any of you catch sight of Amora?” Phil questioned as he walked into the room—more like sauntered. He bore a few scratches and his knuckles were bruised, but other than that, he was as clean cut as always, not even a speck of blood on his suit which Loki found to be more stunning than any other thing that had happened that day. Or the past few days, for that matter, if he’s being completely honest.

It had been a hectic week and he was more than ready for it to be done and over with.

“No,” they all chimed, almost as if they had rehearsed it and Phil sighed, looking like a bedraggled mother hen and Clint gave the man a heavy pat on the shoulder, smiling sympathetically.

“We might not have seen her, but she probably saw us which means she has an idea as to how we work,” Steve spoke up and Loki sighed, trying not to cringe at how correct the captain was. She might have lost this battle, but she could have gained some very useful data.

“Way to put a damper on the mood, Cap,” Tony groused, though he gave the man a single pat on the knee when Steve looked momentarily stricken at the thought of having lowered everyone’s spirits. “Personally, I think we’re all in need of some ‘sustenance’,” he bellowed the last word, puffing his chest out and the action made the arc reactor appear brighter through the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s called food, Tony.”

“No shit. I’m mocking—never mind. It’s not funny if I have to explain it.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, but when Clint began laughing and Loki grinned while Phil just sighed and looked to the heavens as if they held the answers to help him with grown up children, he cracked a small smiled, albeit a confused one.

Tony merely laughed at the super-soldier’s expense, shooting him a reassuring look.

The poor blonde was the only one who hadn’t gotten acquainted with Thor before the man’s time had gotten occupied with Jane.

Steve didn’t seem to care, as his expression brightened a bit at seeing he smiles on those in the room with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this and I got a head start on the next chapter, so hopefully it'll be up in time, this time. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments make my day better and so do kudos, so feel free to drop some of both below. It's always greatly appreciated!
> 
> Till next Monday!


	7. Chapter o7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! So, surprise! I'm on time!
> 
> So, I'm not better now, unfortunately. We managed to find out what it is, which unfortunately is severe chest wall pain which sucks. It's horrid at it's been getting progressively worse and alternatives aren't working, which also sucks.
> 
> But, enough about me! Here's chapter seven, which is admittedly a bit slow--sorry--but bear with me. We get the action in the next chapter, so stay tuned for that.
> 
> Without further ado, chapter seven!
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd, as always. Sorry, again!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

At Stark Tower things were surprisingly calm, all things considered. Bruce was seated at a table along with Natasha on a communal floor of the tower. The place was massive.

Thor was reclining back on the couch a few feet away, hammer resting at his feet as he stared at the television before him playing old episodes of Paranormal Witness which apparently Darcy had gotten him into.

“Jane doesn’t know quality television,” Darcy had said when she had written him a list of what shows he should watch. Paranormal Witness was one she said passed time well, regardless of whether the episodes were good or not which was what he needed at the moment.

A headache was forming at the base of his skull. He could feel it forming, egging around his consciousness and waiting for the most inconvenient moment to strike and put him in a bad mood.

He remembered the days where Loki would take care of his headaches with simple brushed of his fingers to the area of major pain. Always delicate, always sweet, always there—helpful and expecting nothing in return, that was his brother—who turned out not to actually be his brother.

He remembered finding out from his father a few months after Loki left, remembered hearing the story of how Loki came to be. Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun had a field day when they found out Loki was adopted. They were informed of his true birth roots, just that he wasn’t legitimately related to Thor.

Thor remembered feeling his heart stop beating for a moment, remembered how he forgot how to breathe in that moment, how his chest constricted and all he could think of was his precious little brother who spent so much time away from home and never smiled anymore. His little brother who had more friends amongst the shelves of the library than in the halls of the palace or the streets in the realm; that was all he could think about.

And then all he could think about was malicious little Loki who hurt his mother every time he decided to leave. Little Loki who was even related to him and yet put his family through so much anguish with his tricks and schemes—and all he could feel was anger.

He had wanted to track Loki down, tear him apart, curse him out like the scum he was, but when he walked past his brother’s door in the hall on his way to his chambers, he found himself regretting merely having those thoughts.

Thor had spent the night curled on his bed, clutching the fur pelt Loki always used whenever he was in Thor’s chambers.

Gritting his teeth, he stood and glanced over at Natasha and Bruce. Bruce seemed content to flip through whatever he was looking at on the tablet in his hands.

Natasha, however, was watching him—observing, calculating.

In a way she reminded him of Sif.

“Is something the matter, Lady Romanov?” Thor asked as he walked over, putting on a smile. Hopefully she had the same mannerisms as Sif when they hung out. He’d only seen the silent sighed of Natasha while aboard the helicarrier.

“No,” she responded, short and curt, eyes never straying from him even as she twisted a small knife between her fingers. They were long fingers, delicate and strong, like every other part of her seemed to be.

Thor wondered if he would win in a battle against her, but he remembered he probably would. He was a god to these people. A mere woman, assassin or not, would surely not end him.

He kneeled for no one.

Except, maybe, Jane, but that was for very different reasons.

“We have to rescue Selvig, Clint. As much as I don’t want to either, we don’t have a choice.”

“But can’t we let her just keep him for a bit longer, leave him under whatever magic jinx he’s got on him?”

Loki and Clint strode into the room, head close together and talking lowly, words too soft for Thor to catch, but as Loki looked up and took into account the occupants of the room, he straightened, patting Barton’s shoulder lightly. “We’ll see.”

Behind them came in Captain Rogers and Stark, both sporting equally tired looks as they entered, though Tony brightened at the sight of his liquor cabinet just a few meters away. Thor had done some perusing earlier. He knew what the cabinet contained.

He would be happy at the sight of it too, if he was being completely honest; but he found that it took quite a bit of Midgardian alcohol to get him to even the barest of drunken hazes.

“Did you get hurt at all?” Loki whispered, bending down to whisper in Natasha’s ear, hand on her shoulder and fingers massaging lightly, a barely there touch.

Thor remembered how those touches could calm him down from a berserker rage. Soothing and light, never forcing, but he had hated it, hated being touched by Loki. His friends would look at him weirdly whenever he was in the presence of his little brother and he would voluntarily ostracize his sibling if it meant they wouldn’t look at _him_ like that—like he was the freak for liking his brother’s presence.

So he had pushed Loki away and after a few months, it became normal. He constantly missed the pain in his brother’s eyes when he did, missed the way his lips would trembled just slightly before thinning into a tight line, the way those formerly expressive emerald orbs would harden and darken, locking away every trace of emotion.

To say the least, Thor didn’t know where exactly he went wrong.

He knew Amora was the last string, but everything before the blonde witch was a simple haze of the everyday life.

Maybe that was how he hadn’t noticed, because he never changed.

Nights after Loki left, Thor would awaken from dreams he should definitely not be having, lips tingling with the phantom press of soft lips upon his own, tasting like rain and fire and some cold, frigid, underneath.

And then he met Jane and the dream went away, blessedly, and no longer did he have to spend nights racking his mind, wondering why and how and when. No longer did he spend lazy afternoons lying stark naked upon his sheets, fingers curled around his girth and drawing himself to the edge again and again, never going over because of the name lying just on his lips. The name of his brother who he should not be thinking of in those private moments—sweet, lonely Loki…

And when his parentage was revealed, Thor would finally let himself go over the edge and lay in the euphoric haze, fingers wrapped loosely around his length, sticky with his own essence and he would squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth because related or not, they grew up as brothers, dammit.

Then he would clean off and lay upon his sheets, burrowing deeper into the soft furs of his animal pelts and fall asleep. And when he would wake, it would be to find himself unconsciously rocking his hips into the sheets, bringing himself to completion like when he was young all over again, muscles tensing as he released before he would slump on the sheets and try not to cry.

And now his brother was there, but so was Jane, and his mind felt like it was split in half.

Dreams that had stopped occurring after he met Jane came back with a vengeance and it was due to luck only that he hadn’t gasped out his brother’s name yet in sleep. Jane would have been very worried if he had, though he couldn’t help but think that she liked this side of him more than his normal self—the insatiable beast due to some unneeded and unwanted dreams.

He accepted the glass of alcohol Tony offered to him and downed it in a solid gulp, looking down at the floor pensively.

“Thinking isn’t a good look for you,” Natasha finally spoke as she dragged Loki, Barton, and Rogers with her to whatever room Stark had just indicated. Thor frowned, lips jutting out slightly in probably the closest approximation of a pout he could muster unconsciously.

That had to be the longest thing she had said to him.

He felt Loki’s fingers brush his thigh just slightly as he stumbled past, telling Natasha he could walk on his own. He could feel the surge of magic, felt his headache go away, felt his insides quiver, his blood redirect towards the south and cursed every living thing on the face of Midgard for these _feelings._

 

 

 

 

Tony walked over to Bruce, leaning over his shoulder and staring down at whatever it was that the man was looking at. “Do you want anything to drink?” he questioned, bending down at the waist so that his elbows rested on the table and his chin rested on his palm.

Bruce looked up from the tablet, blinking as if coming out of a daze before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Sure it is,” Tony chirps, pouring the scientist a cup of—something. He can’t remember what it was. Probably scotch, or some high grade whiskey—or maybe this was the Jack Daniels he poured into one of the clear unlabeled jars and never drank. Either way it was alcohol and he knew for sure it wasn’t vodka. “Alcohol slows your heart rate—depressant and all that jazz.” He nudged the glass to the scientist.

“True,” Bruce murmured, taking a small sip.

“Here, Thor,” Tony poured more into Thor’s glass, giving him a light smack on the arm, “you look like you could use some. Loki said Agent Coulson would be coming with Jane later.”

It came as a surprise to see that it only seemed to worsen Thor’s mood.

 

 

 

 

Natasha drew little lines on Clint’s arm, twisting each face into a smiley face or a frowny face, humming softly from where they sat on the floor in one of the empty rooms. Steve was leaning against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, shield set down next to him.

“Do you guys normally do this?” the blonde finally asked, looking up from his lap to look over at the red head who was still drawing on Clint’s arm from where she was stretched out on the floor, head in the agent’s lap.

“It’s like a time for reassurance,” Natasha explained, voice soft as she stopped drawing lines on the seemingly about to doze off Clint and the blonde agent whined in the back of his throat and Natasha resumed her drawing.

Loki was sitting near them, toes kneading Natasha’s thigh from where he was stretched out on the floor.

“A way to confirm to each other than you’re alive?” Steve questioned and Natasha bobbed her head in response, eyes sliding over to him.

“It’s mainly for Loki. He used to do this with Thor, apparently, when his friends weren’t around.”              

Now Steve turned surprised eyes onto Loki who shrugged his shoulders, lifting his hands and motioning for Steve to lie down as well and he did, albeit after Loki grabbed his arm and dragged him down.

“My brother goes into a berserker rage during some fights. It’s like a killing machine, he’s programmed that way and sometimes the switch is flipped and he just loses it. He can slay entire armies in that rage, typically he’s good enough about keeping it to the opposing side, but sometimes he goes for both and things get,” Loki twisted, tilting his head to the side, eyes fluttering shut, “messy.”

 

 

 

 

Loki ducked behind the pile of bodies, feet sliding in the combination of both mud and blood. Battlefields were always slippery with Thor around, his rage bringing the skies to open and weep down on them. Poking his head over the pile, trying not to look at their faces, to identify which was friend or foe.

Thor was frightening like this, pupils dilated to nearly encompass the entire blue of his eyes, lips drawn back in an animalistic snarl. Normally it was fine when the Warrior Three were on the battlefield with Thor when he got like this. They managed to make the blonde focus on the enemy group.

Loki couldn’t do that. He fought too differently in comparison to Thor.

A loud roar of rage made him jerk in surprise—never fear. It was his brother, his precious oaf of a brother. There was no way Loki could make himself be scared of Thor, even if he wanted to.

Pulling himself out from behind the bodies, he eyed the carnage with a clinical eye, catching sight of retreating Asgardian warriors—what remained of them anyway. Thor stood alone in the middle of the blood bath, arms coated in crimson, hammer abandoned a few feet away and Loki slowly stepped closer.

Although the Warrior Three could aim Thor’s berserker rage in the right direction, they weren’t talented in calming him down.

Loki was.

“You did quite a number here,” Loki spoke, voice loud in the sudden silence that followed the roar of Thor’s anger. The blonde head whipped around to face him, eyes narrowed and teeth bared, a low rumbling coming from the man’s chest. Loki wasn’t deterred, stepping over fallen warriors as he made his ay closer, deliberate and calm. “You enjoy numbers, right?”

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed and he fought back the thought that it was adorable. Thor was cuter when he smiled, anyway. That big smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and blinded everyone around him, that made him seem more like the god of radiance instead of the god of thunder.

Stopping now that he was a good five feet from his brother, he held out his hand, palm up, letting his seidr rest just under his skin. “Count with me, Thor.”

The man grunted, eyes clouding as he shook his head, releasing another animalistic rumble, though he took a heavy step forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Come on, Thor,” he soothed, not moving any muscles other than his lips. “One,” Thor took another step forward, brow furrowed with such intensity Loki feared his eyebrows would merge and become one, “two. You know the next one.”

Thor grunted, taking another step closer before huffing out a low “three”.

Loki smiled, a gentle, small one that seemed to ease Thor’s mind in his primitive state.

“Very good,” he whispered, and smiled a bit more when Thor’s hand fell heavy on top of his own and his seidr immediately sprung up, wrapping gentle tendrils around Thor’s wrist. “Four.”

“Five.”

It was enthralling to watch as the rage melted off of Thor and Loki could see the slow comprehension dawning onto his brother’s face. It was heartbreaking, as well, in a way to see the horror that followed as wide blue eyes immediately flicked about, taking in the body count, the fleeing soldiers, and the blood—oh, the _blood._

“Thor, are you with me now? Look at my eyes, Thor,” the raven eased, taking another hesitant step closer.

“How do you not fear me, brother?” Thor whispered; voice low and broken and it hurt to think of his typically strong brother feeling the weight of all the death he just caused, all the destruction. His blue eyes train on Loki’s face and the mage let a grin spread across his face.

“There is nothing _to_ fear,” he responded as he lifts his other hand to Thor’s forehead, pushing away dirty strands of wheat blonde hair, catching Thor as he fell forward unconscious. “Theirs is nothing to fear here at all.”

 

 

 

 

The next few days were spent in silence—relative silence, at least. Tony was became entrenched in updating his suit, adding new things and fixing other parts that were a bit further behind than he would like. The suit had taking a distressing beat down, after all, on the helicarrier.

Steve was focused on his training, again, along with Natasha, Clint, and Loki. If a war was coming, they needed to be able to fight together, not to mention that fighting with Loki’s magic took some getting used to.

Loki typically kept his magic invisible unless he needed a physical manifestation of a weapon, but he never made it visible on purpose. It defeated the point of having such a gift. Most people understood it, but it made fighting in the battlefield hard, made having to get attuned to his fighting style so much harder.

Thor still took a while to get into the groove of it and even then, mistakes could happen. That was probably why Loki got into the habit of being so analytical while on the battlefield. Every single move he took could put someone else in jeopardy and he didn’t want that.

Steve took to the training as easily as Clint and Natasha had. It was harder for Clint sometimes because he eyes were so sharp, they always went to movement and sometimes he would focus on seeing and not feeling and end up nearly getting hurt, but he typically managed to snap his mind out of it fast enough.

For Natasha, it was a bit harder because she was used to attacking bodily, quick and agile attacks, but with seidr, it worked differently. Attacks like that could get you killed in an instant with seidr, so she had to resort to weapons and long range attacking, which was more up Clint’s alley than anything else.

Steve took to the fighting style pretty easily, his shield being a weapon he could use for protection and for long and short range attacks. However, he was thrown a bit with how seidr worked and sometimes had a bit of trouble keeping up with the changes from a physical manifestation weapon like a contained energy whip to the silent attack like a pulse wave through the floor.

It was hard work.

Tony would join in occasionally, though mainly to test his updates and how well they would work against Loki’s seidr.

They were all concerned on how okay Tony would be during this battle, though. The arc reactor was always unfortunately exposed in and out of the suit and there was no way to be sure that it wouldn’t be affected. It was keeping Tony alive and one well placed blow and Tony was a goner, simple as that.

They were all worried for each other’s well-being, if they would make it out of this alive. Loki had full confidence in his friends that they would, but he couldn’t say everyone shared the sentiment.

Clint would sleep curled around Natasha and Loki, shaking and muttering in his sleep while in the claws of nightmares that he couldn’t shake.

Steve would wake gasping and shivering with memories from the ice and a fear as cold as it at the thought of maybe having to go through it again even though he knew he’d lay down his life for his friends without a second thought.

Natasha would sleep with her hands tucked in her armpits and arms cross because she didn’t want to wake up hitting someone after resurfacing from a suctioning nightmare.

Loki would lie awake for hours, sometimes simply getting up and going to the living room and sitting and watching television, now and again with the company of Thor, but typically it was Tony who joined him—Tony who had been plagued with nightmares since always and was so painfully human that he would push himself to the brink of exhaustion so that he could catch a few blissful dreamless hours of sleep when he finally toppled headlong into unconsciousness.

Loki would typically soothe him into a dreamless sleep with a light magic, always in secret, and then he would go around and do the same to the others just so that they could be well rested and at peace.

It was after a few days of doing this that they started to take notice.

Bruce would be a lot calmer during the days. The dark bags under Tony’s eyes started to disappear. Steve didn’t flinch as often whenever he opened the freezer. Natasha curled around Loki and Clint more instead of being in a ball. Clint no longer woke up holding his friends in a death grip. Thor no longer was as irritable as he had been days previous.

The only person who he didn’t use his magic on was Jane.

Loki didn’t like Jane; that much was obvious.

She was an intelligent woman, yes, but she was a symbol of all he had lost—not in terms of the love of his brother which he knew he never had, though he had no control over his own emotions. No, she symbolized everything lost in terms of his peace and anonymity, the lack of knowledge Asgard held for his whereabouts, the years of planning that went into disappearing without a trace.

If it hadn’t been for her, Thor wouldn’t have known of the ways of the Midgardians, wouldn’t have been as amicable with them as he was. He wouldn’t have managed to stay on the helicarrier labeled as ‘not a threat’.

What she symbolized was the loss of years of hard work and he detested her for it—and her incredibly annoying habit of asking questions constantly and putting her nose where it didn’t belong.

“But if Amora is so dangerous, why didn’t you just kill her when you had the chance? Then Erik wouldn’t be gone and none of this would be happening.”

Loki took to throwing a box of tissues at her every time she opened her mouth.

She needed to learn to keep her nose clean.

“I don’t like her,” Clint grumbled from where he hung upside down on the couch, hands playing with one of Loki and Natasha’s feet. “She gives me weird looks and yesterday she insulted me for being in the vents.”

“I agree one hundred percent,” Loki drawled from where he sat painting Natasha’s nails a solid black, drawing the symbol of the black widow in red of the dry ones.

“She asked me yesterday if it was necessary that I carry my weapons around,” Natasha muttered, lips tugging into a frown as she flipped through her magazine. “She said it makes her nervous.”

“I think she still is mad at SHIELD for taking her stuff—um, last year, was it?” Clint drew himself up a bit, muscles in his abdomen shaking a bit from the exertion. Loki shrugged his shoulders, frosting Natasha’s nails lightly to dry the nails faster.

He had this shit down to a science.

“Maybe she’s like a really small problem—if you ignore her, she’ll go away.”

“Who are you guys talking about?”

“Jane,” the three of them chorused as Tony plopped down on the floor next to them, smart enough to avoid jostling the couch and ruining Loki’s perfect handiwork with Natasha’s nails.

He hadn’t gotten to paint the red head’s nails in so long. He missed it, missed the way they could just sit around and talk aimlessly about everything and nothing and just wallow in each other’s company. Battles were never fun for that very reason.

Everything that you sometimes didn’t appreciate as much as you should, would come to a screeching halt and suddenly those little moments are all you ever what to return to.

Of course, Loki appreciated every little moment he got.

The life spans of mortals were so short, so fleeting, that Loki never wanted to give any second with them less of a value that they deserved. If he had to live with their deaths afterwards, he would make sure to have an abundance of good memories to get him through the cold years.

But those were depressing thoughts, thoughts he would rather not have because they were here now. Steve came in, dressed in full gear, looking pensive and worried.

“Director Fury just called. You all need to see this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Yet again, rest assured that next chapter will have action and flashbacks and emotions and stuff. So, please look forward to it!
> 
> Also, guys, please leave comments below. I love answering to them so much, even if it takes me a bit to get to it. I also love kudos, so feel free to click the button. They make me smile!
> 
> Till next Monday!


	8. Chapter o8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say. I'm not better yet, which sucks, but there's nothing I can do about it.
> 
> I'm not one hundred percent on this chapter. It feels choppy to me, inconsistent, but I don't think I could have managed to make it any better, in all honesty, so here it is anyway.
> 
> I tried to fix some bits, but eh, there's only so much I can do. I'm never satisfied with my writing anyway, haha XD
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, as usual.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

Loki officially hated his life as he was thrown backwards with the power of Thor’s swing. Landing on his back, head cracking against the cement beneath him painfully, he wondered what he had done to deserve this.

Had he pissed off the Norns somehow?

Did they just hate him?

Maybe he was just cursed with really bad luck.

“Everyone, steer clear of Thor. I’m going to try and get him near the Hulk. It might trigger at least some memory as to who the enemy is,” Loki instructed, wincing as an explosion went off next to him.

He should have known that Amora would use some mindless beasts as her army. What was worse, though, was that it was a series of different kinds of mindless beasts.

There were hulking beasts with faces like flesh free humans, others hunched and deformed, there were a handful where their skin was translucent and you could see the blood running through their veins, the shift of their organs, their bodily functions as they happened.

It was like a horror movie and Loki was jumping around trying to get his brother into the right mind, but he had gotten too close to Amora and she managed to trigger the berserker rage, the mindless anger that clouded the blonde’s judgment. The anger could fuel him to slaughter an entire army in minutes, but also harm and kill those close to him.

“Loki, you might want to but that on a back burner. I got eyes on Amora with the tesseract,” Tony voiced and Loki shuddered, looking over at his brother than that was beating one of the fleshless monsters there, thankfully.

“Alright,” Loki breathed out. His hands were trembling; his lungs shook with each exhalation of breath.

“Clint, eyes up. You and Stark are in charge of getting anything that’s leaving the perimeter or moving where we can’t get it. Watch our backs. Natasha, you’re with me. We can’t exactly get the Hulk to Thor, although it seems like Banner has a bit more control right now.”

Loki jumped over one of the hunched monsters, letting out a burst of seidr that shoved them in Thor’s direction—kept him occupied.

“Get a good amount of the enemy near Thor. It’ll keep him busy long enough until I can calm him down.” Casting a cursory glance upward, he cringed. “And get ready. It looks like it’s about to pour.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You have to control your emotions!”

Odin’s fist hit the table and his goblet shook, the liquid amber inside of it spilling slightly over the edges. Loki could hear the droplets splashing against the wooden surface, beautifully polished as it was.

He had lain on that surface countless times when he was but a few years younger; had curled on top of it, knees pulled up to his chest and side pressed solidly against the wood. He would press his ear against it and listen to the sounds of castle reverberating through the wood.

It was hypnotizing, soothing in a way, whenever he needed to escape from the latest torment the Warrior Three had inflicted.

They had quite the twisted sense of humor—at least when it came to him.

No one would think to check any of Odin’s studies first and Loki would hear them coming when they finally did. He would slip over to the window and duck outside, climb down the walls with precarious footholds as his only aid.

Thor winced, looking over at his father with eyes that were slowly becoming wet and the skies outside rumbled, rain pouring down from the heavens.

“Father, do not blame him. You said it yourself that it would get worse when he got to this age and now he is—you’ve done nothing to prepare him.”

“Loki, be silent.”

“But, Father—”

“Be quiet, Loki! Shut your mouth and go to your room.” A pause, then, “both of you” and Thor immediately turned and bolted from the room. The skies seemed to roar to life, like a sleeping dragon coming alive. Lighting crackled, bright and dangerous, striking the land and disappearing in a mere second.

“Very well, your highness,” Loki spit, eyes blazing before turning on his heel and walking out, not lingering to see the enraged look on Odin’s face.

The skies wept just as Thor did that night, heavy, but soft. He hated crying—Loki knew. It was one of his ticks, to say the least. He remembered sitting next to Thor that night, fingers weaving through the fur of the pelt he was situated on, watching the small tremors course through his brother’s larger frame—definitely larger than Loki’s at least.

“Thor—brother—what upset you so today? Normally it’s not this bad.”

The blonde mumbled unintelligibly into his pillow, body tensing and Loki let his hand reach out, shaking and hesitant, to gently rest his palm against the male’s shoulder.

“Thor?”

“I almost lost it with Sif,” Thor finally let out, voice quiet and low, eyes slowly blinking open as he turned to look at Loki. His cheeks were tear-stained, eyes red and slightly puffy and Loki resisted the urge to coo at the sight. The raven merely dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a soft cloth, wiping at his brother’s cheeks.

“Oh,” he whispered softly, dabbing under his eyes with the cloth and watching as Thor pressed his eyes closed, another tear escaping.

“I—I don’t even remember what she did—or said and next thing I know, she’s on the—the ground and Fandral is with her and Volstagg’s trying to hold me back and—oh, _Norns,”_ Thor moaned, hands shaking as he lifts his arms, reaching out, reaching for Loki. And Loki willingly fell into his brother’s embrace, as he always did, and let himself be held close to the strong body and feel the tremors that ran along it.

“It’s alright, brother. Sif is fine; she’s unharmed, correct?”

Thor nodded stiffly.

“Then, fret not, brother, and calm down. Count, start at one—it’ll calm you.”

And Thor did and the skies finally stopped rumbling as much as they did and the rain slowly ebbed away and the skies cleared slowly as Thor fell into sleep.

Loki eased himself out of the embrace and slipped out of the room after covering Thor in a soft blanket, and closed the door behind him.

 

 

 

 

“Captain, you’ve got incoming at two o’clock,” Clint called over the comm. and Steve barely suppressed the urge to groan like a whiny teenager, ducking as one of the transparent skinned monsters slashed at his throat, swinging his arm with the shield forward to knock the beast away.

“I can’t get to my two o’clock right now. Can you cover it?”

“I’m a bit busy at the moment,” Clint replied, sounding winded and when he spared a glance upward to where he had last seen Clint on the roof of one of the lower buildings, he could see the man fighting, eyes flicking about wildly. “Captain, find a way to get to it—it’s right there!”

“Jesus!”

He jerked in surprise, grabbing the creature in front of him by the arm and yanking it forward, bringing the shield down hard on his neck.

He gaze did not linger on the disembodied head as he dropped it and turned around, sight being met with the gold and red of the Iron-man suit, lying a few feet away, shooting a repulsor beam at the deformed body on top of him. There were smoked spots on the creature’s skin, but it wasn’t going down.

He moved to help, but then there was a hold where the creature’s chest had been, a gaping cavity, and then Tony was throwing the thing off him before the blood droplets could get on him.

“I should,” Tony grunted, getting to his feet and working out the kinks in his joints, “make you start paying for the amount of damage,” he huffs a breath, turning his mask covered face to look at Steve, “my suit goes through around you.”

Steve breathed a laugh, throwing his shield at an approaching creature and watching it cut through the abdomen. Tony cringed, looking away.

“These things sure are ugly,” Steve stated conversationally and Tony snorted; the sound was slightly metallic and distorted through the face plate.

“Tell me about it. And I thought I looked bad after a few all-nighters.”

Steve barely managed to bite back a smile, but his lips twitched upward just slightly.

“Natasha, you’ve got one coming in on six o’clock.”

“I got you covered,” a voice breathed through and then Loki was landing behind Natasha, jamming an ice covered hand through the creature’s throat and tearing the head off. The ice, soaked in blood, melted off, uncovering Loki’s pale hand.

The soles of his bare feet were red and slightly sticky with dried, or still drying, blood Steve noted as Loki walked over, emerald eyes casting about to take in their surroundings, assessing how far the next threat was.

“How’s Thor doing?”

“Occupied, for now, thankfully; we need to keep him that way. Hulk?”

“Smashing,” Natasha said as she pulled out a gun from its holster and shot an approaching figure through the throat head.

Loki sighed, brow furrowing just as the first few droplets fell from the heavens and it began to pour. Steve cast a concerned glance at Stark, momentarily worried for the suit, but Tony seemed to think it was a minor inconvenience, not paying the droplets any mind. He was probably the luckiest out of all of them—able to stay dry despite the pouring water.

“How heavy does this rain typically get?” Steve asked finally.

Loki looked up at the sky, lips pressed tight into a thin line. “Pretty heavy…”

They all could feel the true dread behind the words.

“Alright, we’re going to need to keep on the lookout. Visibility is going to go down, we don’t know by how much, so keep your eyes open.” The Captain America voice, as Tony so helpfully dubbed, slipped out and it was a quick reminder that the battle wasn’t over yet.

“Got it, Capsicle.”

 

 

 

 

“Why aren’t the numbers going down?” Clint yelled, stabbing an arrow into a creatures head before pulling it out and firing the same arrow at another creature. He pulled a knife from its holster, ducking as a monster swung his hand forward, stumbling back a few steps before charging forward, feigning left, but striking to the right, drawing the sharp blade through the throat of the creature.

“I don’t know. They keep appearing too far from Thor and the Hulk.”

Clint sighed partially in relief, partially in frustration. The sound of Natasha’s voice was soothing, but the words she spoke were not, setting him on edge.

“What if we gathered closer to them?”

“It’s too dangerous. In the time it takes for the enemies to get close enough, Thor could potentially confuse us for the enemy and the Hulk might just follow his example.”

“Fuck.”

“Accurate,” Tony sang over the comm. as he swooped down, dispatching another creature.

“How’s everyone holding up?”

There’s a grunt from over the comm. and the captain’s voice comes through, sounding exhausted and beaten, but still there was a note of strength in it, “I could do this all day.”

“I would prefer not to,” Clint hissed, barely managing to leap back in time as two of the creatures launched at him from opposite sides.

 

 

 

 

 

Their minds were never in the same place when it came to Bruce and the Hulk—at least almost always. It was one of the reasons Bruce hated turning into the other guy. The monosyllabic vocabulary of the Hulk rivaled with his own complex way of talking with scientific terms that apparently only tony understood and Loki.

It was frustrating and the added irritation wasn’t good for the Hulk. It made him worse, harder to control, more filled with rage and it put Bruce on edge, always put Bruce on edge.

But right now, he needed to get control, to operate with himself behind the controls and not just let his mind slip into the green haze it did when the other guy took control. He could catch snippets of the conversation going on between the others, but it was a bit choppy between the Hulk’s roaring and the pounding rain and—when did that happen?

The forecast did not show rain, but in his mind all he could think was _smash, crunch, break, smash, smash._

The next roar the Hulk let out was all Bruce, all anger and annoyance at the green giant because dammit—he needed to think straight!

There was something with Thor. He lost control or something, right? They kept talking about bringing the enemy _to_ Thor, so that meant something. Maybe he could just pick some of them up and launch them in Thor’s direction.

A good drop to the ground didn’t seem to kill them and there was plenty to go around.

That was a plan, a pretty solid plan, Bruce decided, but then the fact of the matter was that he didn’t have as much control over the other guy as he would like. It was always a debate with him as to what they would do, how they would do it; like arguing with a five year old, though he’d met five year olds with a more expansive vocabulary than the Hulk.

Okay, he thought to himself, looking down and around at all that around him. Let’s do this.

 

 

 

 

“Um, guys,” Tony called over the comm., soaring overhead and landing behind Natasha to blast one of the creatures behind her, cringing internally at the sight of the _things_ transparent skin. “I believe the Hulk is playing fetch with Thor.”

 

 

 

 

When Loki’s eyes finally fell on Amora, he expected several things. It was kind of cliché, to expect a surge of anger that left him seeing red, or some kind of slow motion to go down. None of those things happened.

In fact, he honestly felt nothing, distantly numb as he muttered, “I’ve got eyes on Amora; be on your guard,” before making his way through the battle, through the piles of dead beasts and puddles of blood.

Her eyes were drawn to him, to the sight of him without the glamour, tall and regal looking even though he wasn’t wearing his Asgardian armor or his helmet—clad instead in skin tight leather spandex with weapons strapped to his thighs and waist and wrists and back.

Loki place a hand on his chest, muting his power level, making himself seem weaker. It was always a good tactic to do when around other mages, especially those who were a bit self-obsessed.

Amora was smart, though, so he didn’t mute his power much, just to the same levels he had when she knew him, when they had hung before—well, everything.

The memories still bothered him despite the time that had passed, and he doubted it would ever stop. Amora was one of the things he detested about Asgard. She was the point where he lost his brother completely, she was the point where he truly realized just how alone he was.

She was where he realized that really people didn’t want to be around him and he was mildly okay with that and it _terrified_ him. It terrified him that he was so okay with it because the only reason he was okay with it was because didn’t know any different.

And now that he had friends, had a family, had people that enjoyed being near him for whatever reason, he didn’t want to let it go. He didn’t want to it to be washed away, ripped from his hands and dragged through the mud, stomped all over by heeled feet.

Closing his eyes, he teleported himself to the rooftop she was on, looking at her with a carefully neutral face.

He had never understood what the warriors of Asgard meant when they whispered about how she was so pretty and that she would grow up to be a beautiful woman. He didn’t understand why they continued to whisper about her curves and her bust and her rear long after she had been dragged from the gates of the castle, spitting insults, blonde hair flying about her like a freakishly yellow storm.

“Loki,” she spoke, like a sigh, her voice sweet and high as she turned to face him.

He was deciding whether he shudder that ran through him was disgust or the rush of memories that overcame him for a split second.

“Amora,” he responded in kind, bowing almost mockingly and he could see in her eyes that she had caught on and wasn’t at all pleased by it. Though her smile stayed in place, her expression became colder, less sweet and crueler.

“Rumor had it that you were dead, at least that’s what most of the high class of Asgard was hoping when you’d been gone for so long.”

“I never put my ear to the rumor mill, only my lips, otherwise it’d drive me ill.”

She walked over, slinking, hips swaying with the movement in what was probably supposed to be enticing, but Loki was more worried for her spine. It didn’t seem comfortable to walk like that in those high of heels.

He was actually surprised she didn’t slip on any of the puddles and the excessive rain dropping on the roof. Her hair was wet and matted down, but she seemed to have expected it because it was pulled back in a high pony tail like what Sif enjoyed wearing.

Up and out of the way, Sif had said when Thor had asked her why she hardly let it down.

Of course they both knew that it was also partially due to the fact that the last time she wore it down, she had golden tresses and the next day when she awoke it had been to find the locks sheared off.

Never let it be said that Loki wasn’t vengeful, especially if you tried to drown him.

Fandral had suffered some rather serious shrinkage in the genital area for the next few months in retort for that as well.

His own hair was wet as well, hanging in wetly around his face and there was the occasional part clinging to his neck uncomfortably.

“Ah, yes, wise words, my sweet raven. But why come here? Midgard is such a weak place, ruled by weak people cursed with dismally short life spans.”

“Midgard is also young, if you’d care to remember. They still have much to learn, yet their advances should not be belittled. Besides,” he smiled, an honest one despite the situation, “they have excellent food. There’s this great donut place down on, uh,” as he gazed down at the wreckage, he caught sight of the aforementioned donut place with windows broken in and some chunks of cement missing. He winced. “Well, there was a great donut place, but you trashed it.”

“And you’ve made,” she paused, looked down at his friends fighting against the creatures, holding their own against them and he felt his heart swell with pride, “some friends?”

He nodded, didn’t want to grace her with a verbal answer when it came to those he held dear to him. She didn’t deserve to know how much they meant to him.

“They’ll leave you, though.”

She was closer now, not but a few steps away, a few feet between them and he instinctively tensed. She hadn’t done anything threatening yet, but he didn’t hold much hope that she would remain docile.

“They’ll leave you all alone and go to Thor, just like I did.” She looked at him, her eyes wide, lips twisted downward as if she felt bad for him. “They know you’re not worth it. They just couldn’t find the proper excuse to leave.”

Loki’s nostrils flared, a glare coming over his face, teeth gritting together. What she was saying was wrong, completely wrong.

“Sooner or later they’re going to leave you, they’re going to go to Thor, or death will claim them—they might suffer, die from a disease that’ll kill the slowly. They’ll die in _agony.”_

Her voice hissed in his ear and he knew for certain that this time his shudder was undoubtedly in disgust.

He moved closer to the edge, away from her.

But the words were in his head, now, as much as he didn’t want to listen to them, as much as he didn’t want to believe them, there was still the fear of maybe she’s right.

There was a grin on her face, cruel and sinister.

His heart was in his throat, his fingers stiff and hands clammy.

Maybe she _was_ right, in some sick way. If he thought about it, it was true.

It was all true.

Eventually his friends would leave him, maybe not to Thor, but to someone else, or to death itself. He couldn’t have that, he couldn’t live with that. It would break him; destroy him so completely he wouldn’t remember who he was anymore.

“Why not deliver it with your own hand? At least then you’ll be assured that it was quick and,” he tilted her head to the side, eyes scanning the battle raging on below, “painless—for both parties.”

Loki’s eyes clouded, he slumped forward, looking down at the battle with a heavy stomach, insides roiling uncomfortably. “Maybe,” he breathed, tilting his head back up to look at Amora, “maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” she crowed, slinging an arm around his shoulders and he blinked in surprise. Solid—this figure was solid. He could feel her magic coursing through her body. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

She wasn’t as powerful as she could have been without Odin’s curse for her attempts against the crown.

“Never,” he whispered and she cupped his cheek, turned his head to face her and gave him her winning smile.

It made him sick.

“Exactly,” she drawled and maybe it was that one word, that blatant belief in a lie, something they both knew was untrue, that made him snap.

His hand flew to her throat, claws digging into the skin and his eyes narrowing, red bleeding in as his skin turned paler and paler, lips tingeing blue first before his skin followed, turning a pale blue that deepened, turned darker. The lines of the royal family of Jotunheim raised on his skin, his horn curved up out of his forehead.

He bared sharp teeth, black nails digging in deeper into her throat.

“You’re a bit anti-climactic, darling,” he hissed, watching the cold burn appear on her skin and she cried out, her magic immediately coming her rescue and lighting her body up in orange flames.

“You’ll burn here, Loki,” she hissed and he let out a roar of pain as the fire licked at the blue skin of his hand, burning more than it would in his Asgardian form.

“You won’t get to see it.”

He pushed past the pain, dug black nails in and tore as the ground froze in ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you thought in the comments below and feel free to leave some kudos. I think the next chapter is the last chapter, so please look forward to it. I don't really know what the next part of the series is going to be about, so feel free to drop some ideas below also. Thank you!
> 
> See you next Monday!


	9. Chapter o9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so late. I've been super busy with trips tot he doctor and stuff to try and get a solution for the pain I'm in. Still nothing, so far, but we're narrowing things down, so yay.
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter nine. There will probably actually be another chapter after this because I can't seem end on an odd number.
> 
> Here's chapter nine!
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, as always.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

Natasha found him on the roof top, clutching his hand to his chest, skin peeling on his hand, swollen and bleeding.

“Loki, Loki,” she whispered, urging him to look up at her with her voice alone. Her hands fluttered about, knowing she couldn’t touch him when he was like this. Not in this form. “Tell me what I can do,” she pleaded, falling to her knees in front of him, wanting so desperately to reach her hand out and cup his face in her hands, to smooth back the wet hair.

“There’s nothing, just, uh,” his uninjured hand shook as he lifted it to grab at his pouches, “get out one of the syringes; break it, but don’t let it,” he huffed a pained breath, teeth gritting, “spill.”

She hurried to comply, watching how he bent his torso away from her to prevent all chances of his skin touching hers.

The syringe broke with a well placed blow with her knife and she looked up at him, fingertips chilling from where she was holding it. “What now?”

He held out the injured hand, where the skin was open and raw, weeping silently, blood spilling over his fingers, dropping onto the ground where it sent little pulses of ice into the water, freezing it. “Pour it, pour all of it.”

She did and tried not to flinch at the agonized scream he let out.

The sight alone hurt her about as much as it hurt him.

Wisps of his magic came up around his hand, she saw, watched them envelope the wounded appendage, seeming to want to shield it from the air and everything around it.

The skin seemed to slowly knit back together, the blood flow ceasing and Natasha sighed softly in relief as Loki’s skin returned to its normal pale hue and the second it was normal, she pulled him close, hands cupping his face and pushing away wet strands of hair that were clinging to his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” she whispered softly and he nodded, eyes slowly focusing in on her face and a lazy smile spread across his lips.

“How’s the battle?”

“They haven’t slowed their approach. If anything, they’re wilder now that Amora’s gone and there’s so many of them.”

Loki stumbled to his feet and she straightened as well, looking over the edge of the building. “We’re short on time. I think Tony’s officially done and the Hulk looks almost done, too.”

“What do we do?”

“I need to,” he heaved, stumbling forward a few steps and she placed a hand on the small of his back, looking at him in concern, “get to Thor.”

“Loki?”

“I’m fine, Nat. Just, when you kill a mage, their magic goes out. I’m lucky Amora wasn’t as strong as she could have been. If her magic had been more mature, it would have leveled the building.”

“Dangerous,” Natasha muttered and Loki shot her an easy grin.

“Tell me about it.”

“What would yours do?” Natasha asked as they ran across the street after Loki teleported them to the ground. He tossed her a confused look, leaping over bodies strewn over the road. “Your magic,” she clarified, hurrying after him.

There were scorch marks wherever his feet touched and she frowned at that. As far as she knew, from what he had told her, Loki was a Frost Giant like his father. He shouldn’t be leaving marks that were caused by flames.

“If I was killed—I don’t want to be conceited, but it’s probably level the entirety of New York State, at the least—depending on the location.”

She stumbled a bit at that.

“Go help the good captain, Natasha. If you come any further with me, you might be killed.”

She nodded and he grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before running off down the road. When she glanced at her hand, it was smarting and red on some fingers and chillingly cold on the other fingers.

She tried not to think about it too deeply as she turned and launched herself into the battle again alongside Clint and Steve, feeling just as exhausted as the rest of them.

 

 

 

 

 

“Thor,” Loki yelled out as he ran down the street, nearing where his brother was with a small group of enemies. He barely managed to duck out of the way as a body flew over his head, feet burning as they skidded against the asphalt.

Thor’s eyes were wide, pupils blown, the blue of his iris almost completely swallowed by black. His teeth were bared in a snarl, brow furrowed.

He looked feral.

Terrifying.

Beautiful.

Loki slowly eased forward once he had the blonde’s attention, sending out a whip chord of green seidr to run through the remaining few enemies. Thor’s eyes followed the string of color.

It was maybe wrong of him to love Thor like this, reduced to his baser instincts, near animalistic, but Loki couldn’t help it. It was funny, but Thor was almost smarter like this, more perceptive, attuned to every little movement or shift in the body before him.

“There’s quite a number of bodies here, don’t you think, Thor?”

Those lips twitched; a low growl rumbling in the man’s chest.

He stepped closer as Thor turned his full attention on him, strong body turning to face him completely. The hammer slipped from the man’s hand, thudding on the ground and sending a series of cracks through the asphalt.

“You like numbers, right?”

The snarl lessened, but the growl did not. It became louder, slipping past slightly parted lips, shaky and low, almost like whimpering. It sounded like a sound of mourning and Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion and he walked forward, more hesitant now, but he had already started—couldn’t stop now.

If there was one thing he knew for certain was that a Thor in a berserker rage hated when something backtracked.

“Care to count with me?”

He let his seidr pool just underneath his skin as he took a few more slow steps forward, watched Thor carefully.

“One,” he murmured, another deliberate step closer and Thor watched him closely, taking a heavy step forward and the growl grew in intensity and thunder rumbled. Loki resolutely did not jump, merely braced himself against the slightly heavier rain. “What’s the next one, Thor?”

It took the blonde a moment in which he took another heavy step forward before uttering a gruff “two”, breaking the growling he had been doing, but his eyes portrayed some sort of longing and Loki _didn’t understand_.

Why did Thor look like that?

He looked like his heart had been ripped out and now it was being offered back to him.

Like he wanted to take, but was scared.

“Three,” the raven breathed, relaxing a bit because as long as Thor was responding, then it was good—it was safe. He waited a few seconds, waited till Thor was a bit closer, just a meter away. “Four,” he whispered, voice just barely loud enough over the roar of the rain,

Thor covered the rest of the distance between them in two long strides and Loki felt nervousness sink into his bones because Thor never got this close of his own volition—not when he was like this and not when he was completely himself either.

“Five,” the thunder god growled before his mouth was on Loki’s, hot and heavy and dominating.

Loki blinked, eyes wide, lip parting unconsciously and he fought against the desire to pull back because dammit, he had been getting over him. Thor was still in the berserker mindset, still not himself. One wrong move and he could very easily decide to snap Loki’s spine, whether Thor actually wanted to or not.

He fell limp against Thor’s body, let himself be gripped tight and forced close, let his mouth be plundered by a tongue, let his hands grip Thor’s biceps to keep himself stable and grounded.

His magic slipped out, wrapping around Thor’s body, seeking him both inside and out and one lone tendril slipped up to the blonde’s head, wrapped around his mind and Loki finally pulled back—wrenched himself out of the strong grip.

“Six.”

Thor’s eyes slowly widened, pupils shrinking to a normal size and comprehension coming over his face like a tidal wave.

“Loki,” he breathed and the mentioned male barely managed to suppress a shiver.

The way Thor said his name—like it was a prayer.

“Are you with me, Thor? Look at my eyes,” he urged and Thor’s wide eyes focused on him, focused on his eyes instead of staring dazedly at a random point behind Loki.

“I—I don’t know why—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Thor, shush, stop talking,” Loki cooed, reaching up and brushing away wet strands of blonde hair. “You can’t panic and you can’t fall asleep right now. We still need you. The fight isn’t done quite yet. Can you stay conscious for me?”

Clouded blue eyes stared at him before Thor slowly bobbed his head up and down in response, a weak nod and Loki let broad hands grip his shoulders, let his seidr slip in through the skin of the blonde, let it vitalize his energy.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Thor whispered and Loki drew back, letting Thor’s hands slip from his shoulders and they left a path of heat down his arms.

Loki turned away and tried to push the feelings away.

 

 

 

 

 

Thor flew ahead to rejoin with the group, though Loki couldn’t help but feel it had more to do with the fact that the large blonde man didn’t want to be left alone with his adoptive brother that he had just kissed.

Sighing, Loki teleported to the top of a building, casting frantic eyes around to find where the hell these monsters were coming from because there was no other way they were going to win this. Those things needed to be stopped at the source for them to win.

And they were running out of time.

The energy in Thor Loki had revitalized wouldn’t last for a long battle. Steve, Natasha, and Clint were already reaching the end of their rope in terms of energy and Tony was probably exhausted, too, though it was a bit difficult to tell with the suit on.

Bruce was still in the Hulk form, but Loki wasn’t exactly sure how much longer that would last. Probably not much longer, now that he thought about it.

It was probably a portal. These creatures were clearly not from Midgard, but Loki didn’t know where the portal was.

Turning around, eyes flying about, he ran a hand through his hair, not caring for the blood that drenched the strands and the rain.

“Guys, we need to find a portal. It’ll look like a hole, but you should be able to make out what’s on the other side. It’s probably where the monsters are exiting from. Chances are, the tesseract is powering it—”

“Otherwise it would have closed when Amora died,” Clint concluded and Loki looked down at him on the battlefield. The man looked pissed and tired and like he was about to either collapse from exhaustion or throw a temper tantrum at any second. “What a bitch,” Clint hissed, jabbing a knife into a creatures neck with probably more force than necessary.

 

 

 

 

There was an itch just underneath his skin and his nails raked across what was accessible to them, searching for the source, trying to supply some form of reprieve. His teeth gritted and his nails dug into the skin of his neck and his hands, feet shifting restlessly on the ground, scraping against hard cement.

“By the Nine,” he breathed in irritation as the itch increased, now just shy of painful—and seriously, now, in the middle of a battle?

A shiver of heat ran down his back and that was definitely not normal.

Grunting, his hands attempted to follow, attempted to claw out whatever was causing this infernal feeling.

He didn’t want it.

It needed to be cast out.

Be gone!

Holding back a whine that would surely filter through the comm. and alert his other team members, he locked his limbs, arms falling stiff at his sides, nails cutting into his palms to make sure he restrained himself.

A portal, he was supposed to be looking for a portal—why wouldn’t the itch stop?

It was like magic, encompassing him all at once, just under his skin, but it wasn’t his own. His own was cold, chilling, numbing, at least to him. This magic was hot, burning, itching and he cursed in his mind. He had read books on this when studying his magic, he should’ve known what to expect when killing a mage.

 

 

 

 

Loki stretched, rising on his tip toes and leaning to the rights, fingers wide and grasping as they just barely brushed the leather of what he wished to grab. Letting out a grunt as he frantically pushed just that smidge higher that his foot could give, balancing on the very tips of his toes of one foot, the other leg thrown out in an attempt to keep him balanced.

Nails clamping on the spine, he tugged, letting out a small shout of triumph as the book popped free, he flailed, left hand grasping the ladder he was currently on just in time, barely preventing a fall that would have ended in severe injuries.

“Finally,” he breathed, clambering off the steps and running on thin legs to the nook where he had been piling all the other books he had read so far in the last few days. Shimmying through the stacks, he plopped down on the cushions spread on the floor, legs automatically drawing up to his chest and book becoming propped on knobby knees.

The sun moved across the sky as e continued flipping through pages, reading, absorbing, learning and drinking in the knowledge provided.

“The dangers of killing a mage are minimal, despite most accounts. It was discovered that making sure their magic is muted is best, inaccessible to them so when they are killed, their magic will implode and destroy itself rather than explode.”

He hummed, sitting up straighter as his legs fell open to cross, leaning forward a bit. Displaying his hand in front of his, emerald eyes took in long pale fingers and perfectly filed nails and up a small wrist to a thin, hairless arm.

“That’s how I’ll have to be killed,” he mused quietly and in the span of mere moments the book was shut and he was curled in a ball, body shaking through tremors at the sheer thought of being murdered with no chance to protect himself.

At least Thor would have a chance, shackled or not. He was a warrior, not to mention he was destined for the throne. That meant that Odin’s spear would probably be handed down to Thor and knowing the blonde, he would probably have his own powerful weapon long before he was old enough for the throne.

Loki, though, he would only have his magic to rely on. No magical weapon for the scorned son of Odin, the child no one wanted to exist.

He could hear the whispers when he walked by, saw the pointing fingers and disgusted snarls in his direction when he walked past. He was well aware of what people thought of him. It was no secret to him.

“Oh, there he goes.”

“He looks nothing like the King and Queen.”

“He was probably the result of a scandal. You know how royals can get that stuff kept under wraps.”

“He brings shame to the House of Odin and to Asgard as a whole.”

“Shouldn’t e be dead?”

“Mother, is that him? Is that the bastard?”

“Don’t say it so loud. He might hear you. Norns know what he would do if he did.”

Walking through the common areas was a special sort of hell in and of itself.

He would prefer to hide away in the library, hidden behind rows upon rows of books, the rich smell of ink and old pages and leather bound piles. Words that spelled delicious stories, spoke of facts and truths, trivial things that no one would typically care to know, but Loki did.

Because Loki was the same; a trivial fact no one cared to know about.

If he were to be slaughtered, he would have no fighting chance for he would be bound in chains that would suppress his very being, his core. And he’d be run through, maybe made an example of, or simply have his head cut off and be done with it.

He wouldn’t stand a chance.

By the time it became dark and he heard the guards come looking for him to inform him it was time for dinner, the cushions he had been curled upon were soaked through with tears and snot and the tremors had hardly subsided.

 

 

 

 

 

It was Amora’s magic, clawing through him, burning him from the inside out. Lips parting to let out a soundless scream, he sent his own magic after it, a war raging in his body as his skin flashed uncontrollably between the royal blue of his family and the pale Asgardian hue most knew him by.

His stomach churned as he tried to maintain the Asgardian appearance, keep some form of defense against the burn. He didn’t want to imagine what the pain would feel like in his Jotun form. The brief flashes of brighter, hotter pain were enough for him.

“I’ve got eyes on the portal,” came over the come, distracting him momentarily from the battle raging inside of him. He would see burns appearing on his skin, the red irritation on the backs of his hands, the liquid fire scorching his veins, making them glow.

His neck was swollen, his lungs straining, almost as if he had inhaled too much smoke and the oxygen wasn’t getting in, wasn’t processing—there wasn’t enough, not enough, never enough.

“It’s going to take something massive to get that flow to stop, at least long enough for someone to close it.”

Gritting his teeth, drawing breath in thinly, he managed to rasp out, “I’ve got a plan.”

 

 

 

 

 

Loki’s plans were always great, he liked to tell himself. Most of the time they went off without a hitch, then a few times they went off with only a minor hitch. It was very rare that his plans didn’t work.

There was one time, though, where his plan hadn’t worked. One of the rare times, but it had been enough to label him as unreliable in future situations, apparently.

Thor had never trusted him as readily after that.

It had been when they were young, foolish boys wanting to go on adventures; when they thought nothing could come between them.

It had been Thor’s idea to leave the castle grounds and head into the city during a festival at night. However, it had been Loki’s plan that got them there.

Out through the window, careful steps through the garden, clambering over the wall and then sprinting down the edges of the walkway leading into the castle; that was the plan Loki had come up with and it had worked.

Most people probably would have planned to go down a path far away from the main one, but there was always a chance something could go wrong—this Loki knew—and he refused to take the chance of either one of them getting hurt and then being too lost to get adequate help.

It was not how either of them wanted to die, especially not while being out doing something as harmless as going to a festival.

The festival was a villagers’ thing, a gathering of everyone and there was drinking and plenty of food and games to play. Thor had always been fascinated by them for a reason unknown to Loki, but he had wanted to make it happen for Thor because Thor was his brother and he loved him with all of his heart and then more.

Clinging to Thor’s hand tightly, Loki tugged his brother along down the path, the small ball of light clasped between his fingers enough to illuminate their pathway. His magic wasn’t yet powerful enough for teleportation or the like, but he could make a ball of light no problem.

“Dear brother, how you manage to pull these things off, I will never know,” Thor breathed from behind him and when Loki spared a glance back it was to see the blinding white smile on his brother’s face and twinkling cerulean orbs.

It made his chest feel tight and his heart flutter.

That was normal, though.

“Talent, Thor, talent,” he responded in kind as they picked up the pace, stepping quickly down the slope and practically running into the town below.

The festival was already in full swing when they got there and Loki breathed a sigh of relief because they made it, they were there and if the grin on Thor’s face was anything to go by, he had succeeded in making is brother happy.

That was all he wanted in life.

For Thor to be happy; it was enough for him.

He could die now and considered his life worth it.

Of course, that wasn’t what he literally desired. No, not now when Thor was tugging him through the streets, hood of his cloak pulled up just like Loki’s as they navigated through people milling about at stands and sitting areas.

“Look over here, brother,” Thor shouted; stopping and raising his arm to point, tugging Loki closer whilst doing so. Loki looked in the direction indicated and smiled softly at the sight. Where Thor was pointing was where the Bifrost was situated and it looked gorgeous in the lighting.

The orange glow of the lit torches tinted the sky a bit lighter like the rays of sun, but dimmer, warmer yet somehow colder. And the star twinkling in the backdrop made him shiver. Amongst it all, though, up there, lay the Bifrost, the long bridge and its rainbow coloring startling against its background.

Absolutely gorgeous.

“It’s beautiful,” Loki murmured softly, turning his head to look over at Thor who was already looking at him with a grin large enough to take over half of his face.

“Indeed.”

Tightening his grip on Thor’s hand just slightly, Loki guided his brother through the festival, stopping and allowing his brother to try different foods they didn’t serve in the castle, laughing whenever Thor screwed his face up in distaste for certain meals.

It was nice; fun.

The trek home was where things went downhill.

It seemed like they would make it through all right, like nothing bad could happen. They had already succeeded in leaving. Getting back in would be exceptionally easy. Or, at least, it should have been.

Loki didn’t know what exactly went wrong, but next thing he knew, Thor was crying out in pain from the inside the garden. He clambered up the wall, slipping over and dropping onto the ground before looking about frantically for his brother.

“Thor?” he hissed, taking a few steps forward and nearly tripping over his brother’s body from where he was lying on the ground, face screwed up tight in agony. “Oh Norns, Thor,” he whispered, falling to his knees and taking hold of his brother’s shoulder, his eyes becoming wet quickly. “Are you alright? Please tell me you are well, brother, please.”

“My arm,” the blonde gritted out and Loki’s eyes tracked down to where it was clutched protectively to the blonde’s chest and he snapped his fingers, sparking a flame to appear to aid his sight. “Oh,” he breathed; eyes wide.

The bone was poking out of the skin and there was blood everywhere, probably too much see the extent of the damage.

“Okay, okay. We need to get you to a healer, Thor, okay? I need you to stand with me and I’ll get you there.”

Thor vigorously shook his head, teeth grinding, jaw clenched. “No, no,” he groaned, twisting away on the grass. “They’ll find out we left. We’ll be in trouble. Father will be furious.”

“No, no, he won’t.”

“Loki—”

“He won’t be angry because he won’t find out, alright? Just do as I say. Now, get up, come on.” It was a struggle to get Thor to stand and Loki couldn’t do much—not at this age. He had only just started to develop his seidr. The most he could do was suction off some of the pain, though not much.

“What do we, what do we tell them?”

“Say we were playing in the garden; you climbed one of the trees and the branch broke.”

Thor nodded shakily and as they neared the door, Loki cried out for the guards, for anyone nearby to help them out.

The guards arrived not moments later, picked Thor up, and ran down the halls to where the healers were, shouting orders left and right and Loki merely watched from where he was standing; Thor’s blood smeared over his hands and the front of his shirt.

That was what he looked like, that greeted Odin and Frigga, when they rushed out of the healer’s room, relieved that Thor was fine, it was nothing more than a broken bone.

“You did this!”

“We were just playing, father.”

“You should know better! You should protect each other! You probably know every single bit of every single tree out there, how much every branch can hold. Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I didn’t see, I didn’t realize—”

“You damn right didn’t,” Odin hissed, reaching down and grabbing Loki by the ear, dragging him further inside the castle. “And that injury could have been a lot worse because of it.”

He suffered three nights in the golden room, where light reflected off every single surface, sleep close to impossible to have when it was never dark.

He hadn’t even known how long he’d been in there until they finally let him out.

 

 

 

 

 

Tony landed next to Loki, the suit falling heavily onto the cement rooftop as he turned a masked face to look at the agent. “Alright, is your comm. off?”

Loki nodded and Tony mimicked the movement to show his own was off.

“Amora’s magic managed to root itself inside of me when I killed her. It’s trying to end my life as we speak, but my own is keeping it contained.”

“Sounds painful,” Tony muttered and Loki let out a derisive snort. His lips pulled into a weak smile.

“Very; now I need you to get me to the portal. I’ll release her magic into it—it should cause a large enough explosion to destroy whatever is on the other side.”

Tony nodded, stepping closer as his face mask slid up, revealing his expression to Loki. “There’s a ‘but’ in there, though, isn’t there?”

“It’s most likely a one way trip. I cannot assure your life or my own. That’s why I wanted to talk to you with the comm. off. Chances are that once they catch on to the plan, they’re not going to be very happy about it.”

“What happens when the explosion goes off?”

“Thor will destroy the encasing when the tesseract is, breaking the stability and shutting the portal.”

“With us potentially still on the other side—wow,” the brunette breathed, slouching within the confines of the suit, breath leaving him in a thin hiss. “Wow, okay, Jesus.”

“I understand if you choose not to. It does not make you less honorable a warrior. I have turned away from my own fair share of battles as well when it comes to putting my life at risk.”

“Then, why now?”

“Those situations were far less dire. This one is far more dangerous.”

Tony nodded his head, turned brown eyes to look at the streets below, littered with bodies of those not of this world. “Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Feel free to leave some kudos and comments!
> 
> Thanks, everyone!
> 
> And again, sorry for the delay.


	10. Chapter o10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done. I finished it. Finally. Enjoy.
> 
> P.S.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd. It's the last one. I couldn't wait.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

The walls of the medical room at SHIELD aboard the helicarrier were bright and white, nearly blinding in the light coming in from the outdoors. Windows were always a thing SHIELD loved when it came to the Helicarrier.

He guessed it was to grant the ability to see most threats coming.

Fury was a guy who loved his security. Any advantage he could take, he took it.

He could feel someone, hands, working frantically over him, heard the way they were banging against the metal.

“JARVIS,” his voice was weak and he had to fight back the urge to cough, “open the suit,” he croaked and as it slowly opened as JARVIS followed his request, he blacked out, back in the blissful sea of unconsciousness.

 

 

 

 

“Where am I?”

Everything was dark, pitch dark, but he could feel the solidness beneath his feet and couldn’t feel a breeze of any sort.

“Your mind, my mind; the place most go when they fall into a coma,” came a voice from amongst the darkness and as the figure stepped closer, it was a wonder he could make him out in the dark, but he seemed unaffected by it. Every detail stood out in stark clarity, from the blood staining the spandex mission suit to the bare feet slowly drawing closer.

“I’m in a coma?”

“Of sorts, yes; though not for long. Your body is just merely resting and healing itself enough for you to be able to function somewhat coherently in the waking world.”

He watched Loki draw closer, the way his head was tilted slightly to the side. His expression was open and kind, reassuring and calming in a way only JARVIS seemed to be nowadays. And wasn’t that sad?

“And you? Are you in a coma?”

A slow nod was his response. “I committed a horrid mistake when fighting Amora, let my anger get the best of me and killed her without thinking of the consequences. My body is now healing from my mistakes as well as my core.” A pale hand rested on a flat stomach covered in leather spandex, green eyes flitting downwards as if in shame.

“Your core is where your, uh, magic is most concentrated, right?”

Loki nodded, lifting his hand from his stomach to brush away stray strands of inky black. “The main reason I am here, though, Tony, is to walk you through the flashes.”

“The what?”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Tony thought for a moment, dug deep into his mind trying to come up with what happened and got a brief flashing image of the fight that startled him, heard the loud echoing roar of the Hulk in his ears, saw bright orange and yellow and red in front of his, lighting up his face as he fell backwards. He saw a body falling with him, heard hollow words in his ear—“close it”.

He felt himself falling back, but a hand caught his arm, hauled his upright. “What,” he looked about frantically, eyes searching for where the images had been, where the explosion was, “was that?”

“Overwhelming, aren’t they?”

Loki’s voice was like a soothing hum in his ear, a low assurance that everything would be fine and his eyes grew wet unconsciously at eh feeling.

“Come here,” Loki cooed softly, drawing him in gently and Tony let him, let himself be pulled forward and enveloped in his arms, let long pale fingers stroke through his bloody and undoubtedly sweaty hair, let Loki’s voice filled with soft comforting words lull him into a state of calm.

He let the tears fall and felt the weight come off his shoulders, if only for a moment.

 

 

 

 

“How are they holding up?”

“They’re fine, Agent Romanov. Both of them will make a full recovery, most likely.”

The red-head sighed, shoulders slumping in relief, relaxing just minutely, but it was enough for Fury to see that this had been weighing on her for quite a bit. Probably since they brought them in from the battlefield, now that he thought about it, and it eased some level of tightness in his chest.

“Where’s Agent Barton?”

Fury released a soft snort, flicking his gaze back the way he came. “With the rest of the crew in the room,” he responded and watched her nod slowly, corners of her lips twitching upwards in a small, tight smile.

The tension in her probably wouldn’t ease until they woke up; this much he knew.

“Go on ahead.”

She nodded, curt and stiff before walking briskly past him, her fingers brushing the back of his hand gently, almost as if in apology for her behavior. He knew it was. He didn’t hold it against her.

Loki had been of great help to her even when they hadn’t known each other and Tony had been under Natasha’s protection—she had seen him and taken care of him when he was quite literally being killed by the very thing also keeping him alive.

Exhaling deeply, Fury gave a small shake of his head before continuing on to where he had been originally heading to begin with.

 

 

 

 

 

A scream tore itself out of him as his fingers clutched at his head, heels of his palms pressing roughly against his temples. “Make it stop, please, make it stop,” he sobbed, knees meeting the ground harshly as he collapsed forward, breath harsh and heavy.

“Breathe through it, Tony.”

“Please, just make it stop,” he whispered, lips quivering, tears streaking down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead into Loki’s chest.

“I can’t do that. I’m sorry.”

Another scream ripped through him, his back arching, muscles tensing and releasing violently as images flashed behind his eyelids. It was like an assault on all of his senses. He could feel the weight of the body in his arms, the weightlessness of space, could see the blinding light of the explosion.

“Breathe, Tony, breathe. Just relax.”

Sweat dotted his brow, small droplets rolling down the sides of his face to mix with his tears, wetting his cheeks with the salty mixture. Loki’s fingers were cool, a sweet relief to the burning he felt all over, stroking over his face, massaging his scalp. His breath was cool where it brushed Tony’s skin and he forced himself to follow the breathing even as another flash hit him, threatening to overwhelm him.

His lungs ached, his throat sore, as shuttered breaths escaped him, body sagging forward in exhaustion. “How much more?” he whispered hoarsely, voice tight in agony. His whole body was shaking, unsure if it could handle another onslaught.

“Until you wake up,” Loki responded, tony slightly apologetic.

“When’s that?” Tony was slurring now, tongue feeling heavy and too big for his mouth, lips sort of simply lying parted, jaw loose. He felt like he was three minutes away from drooling, maximum. His fingers barely twitched on command, his arms and legs feeling too long, too uncoordinated to bother moving them. The room was shifting. He couldn’t see it, it was still pitch black, but he could feel it—that is until he realized it was him shifting, Loki turning and tugging his body until he was on his back on the floor, looking up at the god’s face.

“When you are ready,” Loki whispered to him, his voice sweet and soft, melding together like his head was encased in gelatin and he couldn’t hear clearly; like there was cotton in his ears. And he wanted to tell Loki that, ask if that was normal, how he knew if it was or wasn’t normal, how come Loki hadn’t woken up yet—he seemed ready. But he couldn’t, his body lying uselessly where Loki positioned him, jaw slack as he gazed up at the god of mischief with a dazed expression.

“Lo,” he breathed out on a shaky exhale, but it hurt to even do that and he really couldn’t think straight enough to form a complete and functioning sentence.

“Hush, Tony,” and it was amazing how that didn’t even sound deprecating or patronizing, but comforting instead, “just rest.”

He couldn’t even gasp out as ‘okay’ before his eyes were rolling back, eyelids fluttering shut, a line of saliva trickling out of the corner of his mouth as his head lolled to the side; exhaustion finally winning out.

Who would’ve known you could feel so exhausted while unconscious.

 

 

 

 

 

“Close it,” Steve ordered. Loki heard it filtering through the comm. that was practically broken, not designed to handle a trip outside of Midgard. His skin was peeling, lungs burning with a need to breathe, but this air was poisonous, not to add the smoke from the explosion, debris already falling in their direction—well, floating, but rapidly.

He turned his body, an action that took a colossal effort and shoved at the chest of Tony’s suit, trying to push him out, push him faster, to make it to where the portal was already starting to close, the image of Midgard slowly being eaten out of existence.

His efforts were weak, strength barely there as he struggled to maintain consciousness long enough to at least get Tony out. Tony needed to make it back. He was going to do great things; he needed to make it out alive.

He believed it was that frantic thought that made him let out a burst of seidr, part of his reserves, put weight on both their bodies, heavier than the gravity of Midgard, but not so much that it was detrimental to Tony’s health. The added weight, though, let them slip through the portal, just in time, closing just after them.

Then, everything went black.

 

 

 

 

Clint groaned as a tap on his arm woke him up, shifting and releasing another groan as his back popped, arms coming up to stretch over his head, relishing in the release of tension in his muscles before blearily opening his eyes to look over at whoever woke him up.

He saw a shock of red before his vision came into focus to make out the familiar face of Natasha looking up at him in concern. Twisting to sit up, he moved, getting off of his little niche in the top corner of the medical room where he had set up camp until Loki and Tony woke up.

He hoped that was soon. He was starting to miss Loki’s commanding yet flexible nature and he had just been getting to know Tony and the man was pretty amusing.

Grunting as his knees cracked a bit as he landed he let out a soft sigh before looking at Natasha. She had moved to Loki’s bedside, staring down at him with a carefully blank expression. Her fingers traced his cheek, not touching, but hovering.

His skin was paler than normal, just on the edge of blue. They were all anticipating a full out transformation soon, judging from his appearance. He said he typically healed faster that way, but he had a complex with his Frost Giant appearance.

After Laufey’s visit, Loki seemed to hesitate a lot less when it came to shifting to his birth form and Natasha and Clint didn’t really mind. It was the true Loki and they loved every part of him.

His skin appeared paper thin in the lighting, though, and they could see a shifting shadow under his skin, moving up his arms, wrapping around his biceps, slighting up his shoulder, curling into his collarbones, down his chest, disappearing momentarily when it reached the left pectoral before reappearing under the skin of a flat stomach, shifting across hard and smooth planes, curling and slithering restlessly.

It was fascinating to watch but it also felt like a form of low-key body horror that made both of them want to look away because Loki was dear to both of them. The last thing they needed to see on him was some sort of _The Matrix_ stuff going on in his abdomen.

“He’s so still,” she whispered, voice colored by some form of wonderment and yet tinged with fear, fear they both felt.

What if he didn’t wake up?

What if he never moved again?

What if, what if, what if?

It was exhausting and Clint was pretty sure that was the number one reason he hadn’t managed to have a good night’s rest in days. The battle had drained them all, but he refused to go to sleep, not wanting to miss the smallest movement that might indicate that they were going to wake up.

“He looks so peaceful.”

Natasha smiled up at the sound of his voice. “He hasn’t looked like this since Thor got here.”

A frown appeared on both of their expressions, thoughts of the blonde god souring both of their already piss poor moods. Turning their attention back to Loki who was in the same position he had been for the last few days.

“I want him to wake up,” she breathed, lips trembling just slightly on a shaky inhale, green eyes slightly moist and Clint walked behind her, let her turn and bury herself in his arms as they both finally allowed themselves a moment of weakness.

 

 

 

 

“What were you like before you came here?” Clint asked, shifting to look over the raven that lied between both him and Natasha. They were on the roof of Loki’s apartment building, staring up at the stars that Loki’s magic made visible despite the light pollution of the city—a breathtaking sight that they didn’t get to enjoy nearly as much as Clint felt they should.

It made him hate the city just a bit.

Loki hummed softly, eyes fluttering shut and lips pursing as he thought, fingers stroking through Natasha’s hair where she had her head on his chest.

“In my description or the description of the people and my family,” Loki asked, turning his head to meet Clint’s gaze with bright green eyes. He swore that the bright green that were the male’s eye color wasn’t natural, but it was mesmerizing.

“Both, I suppose,” Clint muttered and Loki nodded, turning his gaze back to the sky. Green swirled across the sky, creating the image of a small boy standing in the corner of a large room packed to the brim with people.

“In my terms, lonely; I had no friends, my family and I didn’t get along as well as the public thought. Shunned is probably another word for it.” The image changed to another one of a slightly older version of the boy, looking like he was attempting to ask a man, older with an eye patch who was talking to another group of men, something and yet no one paid him any mind. “As I grew older, the feeling never changed. As a matter of fact, it grew, as I was old enough to understand more clearly what was going on—that no one desired my presence in the near vicinity of them.”

The green swirled, showed another image of a Loki looking just a bit younger than the one laying next to him, huddled in the corner of what appeared to be  ball or celebration of a sort if the people dancing and drinking and laughing were anything to go by. And yet Loki was in the corner, looking out in front of him with a mask of indifference, but knowing the Loki he knew now, he knew the male longed to be included into it. People walked past the male and didn’t even stop to greet him or even look over—acknowledge his presence.

“In the terms of the people and my family, I was a mischievous twat. Troublesome, too curious for my own good; my mother would say it would either get me killed or used. Either way, to me it seemed like a sweeter fate than the life I was presently living.”

“Didn’t thinking like that scare you?” Natasha asked, shifting where she was lying and looking up at Loki who craned his neck to look down at her.

“It did,” he responded, eye flicking back up to the sky, “though not at first.”

“What changed?”

“I got used—or rather, abused. And I thought I would be giving these sick bastards everything they ever wanted if I were to die. And I was, _am_ , everything but complacent, so I took to a new way of thinking; devised myself a plan to get out and now I’m here.”

Natasha had a small smile painted on her plump lips and when she raised her gaze to meet Clint’s, he mirrored it, reaching out his hand and letting their hands clasp together, resting joined right over Loki’s heart.

 

 

 

 

 

Natasha somehow managed to coerce Clint out of the room after they both stood there and stood vigil over the unconscious bodies of Tony and Loki. Steve was a lot harder to coax away from the room, looking so utterly devastated as he looked down at the two unconscious bodies, but she managed it somehow.

Natasha guessed it stirred memories of his best friend, James Buchanan Barnes, who had died; a fellow member in the Howling Commandos. She could only imagine how it felt to be right there, about to potentially lose two people to another fall.

Bruce refused to enter the room because he feared his anger of not being able to do more would make the other guy appear, but he stayed by the door in a chair he had dragged there and hardly ever left. It was easy for him to do, used to losing himself in science binges like Tony, and could run for days without realizing how much time had passed, how he should probably go shower and sleep.

It was like a test in strength, tearing Bruce out of the chair and down the hall to the lunch room. Thor spent most of his time there or with Jane. He seemed anguished to have potentially lost comrades in battle, but Natasha noted he didn’t seem as heartbroken as the rest of them, able to continue on with life.

She wondered if that came with being a god. You just became so accustomed to death that it just didn’t affect you as much.

Loki had once told her that death was something they experienced so often in Asgard where wars happened more often and it would decimate part of, or entire, villages, towns, even kingdoms. If he grieved every death to the fullest of its potential, he would never stop; not to mention the fact that he wasn’t actually one even a first name basis with practically the entirety of Asgard, so he wouldn’t even get the chance.

It was a sad thing.

 

 

 

 

 

Nearly a week later, they were all awoken by a group call from Agent Coulson; his voice sounded exhausted, but relieved—those closest to him even able to say it sounded ecstatic—as he uttered two words.

“They’re awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. I don't know what's to come from the following editions, but if you have any ideas, feel free to drop them below in the comments.
> 
> Also, feel free to leave me kudos and comments. You know I love them!
> 
> Thanks again for all of your support throughout the duration of this story. It meant a lot. Thank you!
> 
> P.S.
> 
> I got an instagram account, same username ( saruma_aki ), so feel free to go check it out.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter will be up next Monday.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and kudos. They legitimately make my day!


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